


DuckTales one-shots

by soulfulsin



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: This will be a compilation of my DuckTales one-shots that I don't feel like making separate fics for. Also, for fics that don't really stand up on their own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first one-shot I'm posting, not the first one I've written. I hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> Had an idea for a Della drabble. Inspired by Frank's Tumblr post about Della having two books on the moon with her and someone else's comment that between that and the TV, she wouldn't go crazy. I'm not so sure about that.

Della had rigged the TV after much sweat, hard labor, and obscenities. At first, she’d been reluctant to swear, as if someone might hear her. Then she realized, with no small amount of grief, that she had best get used to her own voice, as it was the only one she’d be hearing for an indeterminate amount of time. Time had a different meaning on the moon and she was shocked she’d gotten the TV working, considering she appeared to be on the dark side of the moon. All in all, it had taken the better part of two weeks to rig it and she might have salvaged parts from the ship that she could have used to get home.

 

“Could have” being the opportune words there. With the way the Spear had crashed, she was lucky she hadn’t been killed. Of course, luck was a matter of opinion. As the days wore on and became weeks and months, she began to wonder about that stroke of “luck”. She began to wonder whether she was not cursed instead, cursed to die alone, miserable and away from her babies and family. At least if she’d perished when the ship crashed, she would’ve died quickly. This was death by attrition and it was awful.

 

But the TV provided some modicum of comfort. Granted, the signals were erratic and she could never predict how well a channel would come in on any given day. Sometimes, she was stuck with Spanish soaps. The worst part was she was so bored that she’d watched them anyway and had almost gotten caught up with the storyline when that channel went out and was replaced by CNN.

 

Then there was the time that she’d gotten stuck watching nothing but sports for an entire month. In German. It seemed like her TV antennae caught all broadcasts, regardless of the language or point of origin. She had missed her Spanish soaps by the time that month was up.

 

Of the two books that she’d brought with her, one was the Spear’s operation manual. Ha. She bet Gyro would never have thought she’d read that. But since it was that or watch Germans grow wildly enthusiastic about soccer, she decided she’d rather read technical mumbo-jumbo. Maybe she’d learn something about how to rescue herself.

 

She didn’t.

 

The second book was sentimental and she would’ve felt stupid about bringing it if there was anyone around to feel stupid with. Alas, no matter how much she yelled at the TV or at herself, no one answered.

 

In time, she found herself holding conversations with herself or pretending to talk to Donald or Uncle Scrooge. Once, she’d even pretended to talk to her sons. She wasn’t sure how old they were now; as she’d mentioned, the time had little meaning. She wasn’t even sure months had passed, to be honest. It could’ve been a time loop or she was stuck in stasis. Hell if she knew.

 

She’d seen the major news events while stuck on the moon, although her disconnect from them grew more and more apparent. She started to feel like she wasn’t inhabiting her body, but instead, was watching it from outside herself. The strange disassociation helped her cope with the days without contact, though it also scared her badly. She feared she was losing her mind.

 

With an effort, she’d managed to secure herself in the present. She couldn’t always tether herself to her body, but it was a start.

 

Then the fateful day had come and the broadcast aired and she’d seen her sons for the first time. There was also a girl there, although the doctor had told her she’d have three boys, not three boys and a girl. She didn’t know who the girl was and the newscaster hadn’t elaborated. But they were her boys. She had no doubt about that.

 

From then on, her determination grew. She’d languished long enough on the moon. She needed to get back to her babies before even more time had passed.

 

How had the time gone so quickly? She didn’t remember, but then again, the days had blurred together. Perhaps it had been over a decade. She couldn’t tell. She cursed to herself and then laughed. Obscenities had little meaning now.

 

She was done waiting for rescue. No one was coming for her. She’d have to come for them instead.

 

Somehow, she’d salvage the Spear of Selene and return to Earth and her children. Soon. (Even if she wasn’t entirely sure how she would, she’d manage it. Because death by attrition was no way to live).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby misses Lena (set in season 2).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after “The Most Dangerous Game Night”. It’s not that long--I was distracted when I was writing this. I just lost a friend who might not have been a friend in the first place, but it still really hurts. So I feel you, Webby.

 

Dewey might call her his best friend, but that title felt hollow to her. She’d kept her feelings to herself, where they couldn’t hurt anyone, especially not him. So she let him think that everything was okay and she’d miraculously recovered from discovering her best friend was an enemy shadow spy and then sacrificed herself for Webby’s sake. She kept it all tamped down where it could only hurt herself.

 

It was a skill she thought she’d done well after losing her parents. The triplets had spent so much time worrying about what had happened to Della that no one bothered to ask her about her parents. Not that she would have answered. She would have brushed them off and pushed them back on the path for Della. 

 

As always, when she had a moment to breathe and no one was bothering her, she closed and locked her door and stared at the friendship bracelet she’d made. If she concentrated, she could almost feel Lena, but that was ridiculous. Lena was dead. Webby huddled on her bed and hugged her knees. Lena was dead and she was pretending everything was all right.

 

Nothing was all right.

 

Knowing no one could hear her, she gave vent to her misery. Tears streaked her cheeks and she sobbed, missing Lena so powerfully that if her tears could bring her back, she would’ve cried an ocean’s worth. The boys didn’t get it. They wouldn’t get it. She didn’t want them to know what she was suffering.

 

For she didn’t know how long, she cried, curled into a ball and sobbing until she ran out of tears. She’d given herself a headache. She wasn’t sure, at first, that the pounding on her door came from the headache or was outside of herself. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she reached for a glass of water and hissed as the pounding continued.

 

“Webby!” 

 

No, that wasn’t in her head. Webby grabbed the glass of water and drank it, attempting to alleviate the headache and dehydration she’d given herself. The knocking continued and she feared it might until she answered the door. Wiping her face and trying to conceal her emotions as best she could, she hopped off her bed and headed for the door.

 

“Webby?” 

 

The triplets were standing outside her door and though she knew she’d wiped her face and done her utmost to appear composed, she wasn’t fooling them. She glanced at the clock; wasn’t this late for them? They were usually watching TV now and not paying any attention to her. Why were they here?

 

“Are you okay?” Dewey asked.

 

Webby wanted to respond, but her throat was too tight. She nodded and the boys wrapped her up in a tight hug.

 

“It’s okay not to be okay,” Huey said. “You don’t have to lie to us to make us feel better. It’s okay to miss her.”

 

“No, it’s not,” she said, feeling like they were patronizing her. She tried to push away from them, but they clung to her. A sob crept up her throat and she swallowed it back with an effort. She would not cry in front of them. She was strong. She was invicible. She was Webbigail Vanderquack and she didn’t cry.

 

“We miss our mom,” Louie said softly and she turned to look at him. “We didn’t know her, but we miss her. And what you went through was a lot worse, because you actually knew Lena.”

 

“I thought I did…” she muttered and Dewey rubbed her back.

 

“She cared about you too,” Huey said. “How long have you been hiding this from us?”

 

“Since she died…” she muttered. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought her shadow was moving oddly, but it could’ve been an apparition from crying so hard.

 

Though she didn’t trust herself enough to cry in front of them, she let them hug her. It wasn’t the same, but...they were family. They were family and maybe she owed them more than she’d been giving them. But it was hard to let down her barriers when she’d kept them up for so long. 

 

“You know, if you’re missing her, you can come to us,” Dewey offered.

 

Webby nodded, though she had no intention of following through on that. “Thanks, guys.”

 

“We care about you too, you know,” Huey said.

 

“I know,” she said. And maybe, some day, she’d be able to take them up on that offer. But not today. Today, she’d pretend to let them think this was the worst of it. And maybe she’d be able to cope for another day. A day at a time.


	3. Adventures in WTFing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes were made. Others will be blamed. (Note that this chapter is technically PG edging into PG-13 territory, but AO3 doesn't give me that option).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a weird plot bunny. Originally, it was going to be smut. Then I was afraid I’d be thrown out of the fandom for it (It was aged up, but this fandom is so weird when it comes to shipping), so I didn’t write that. It turned into this.
> 
> And trying to write with three hungry cats clamoring for food is a pain, let me tell you.
> 
> Guess who Beakley slept with and win a prize. XD

It was hate sex. That was all it was. If Mrs. Beakley thought of it as that, then everything else fell into place. She needn’t tell anyone, particularly her employer. At the moment, with a pounding headache, she could scarcely look herself in the mirror, let alone face anyone else. She considered taking the day off and staying in her room until she could make sense of what she’d done last night. Unfortunately, she didn’t have that luxury.

 

Groaning, she considered giving herself a stern reprimand, but she didn’t think that’d help. She didn’t need to explain herself to anyone; the only other adult in this household she could remotely be said to confide in was her employer and she had no intention of telling him. The children didn’t need to know, even if they’d understood, which they were too young to comprehend. Oh, please let them be too young to understand.

 

Scrubbing her hand along her face, she allowed herself the luxury of cursing. Then she set about her daily ablutions. She would not think about what she’d done last night.

 

* * *

 

 

If Scrooge noticed his bodyguard/housekeeper being preoccupied, he had his own worries. While he couldn’t say he hated Goldie, far from it, he also couldn’t in good conscience explain her presence at the breakfast today. She was smug, too, looking like a cat that had gotten into the cream as she settled herself, wearing his robe, at the table. Donald took one look at her, squawked, and fled. He knew what was involved.

 

Maybe the kids wouldn’t notice. Webby was preoccupied with a book and the boys...were staring right at him.

 

“What is it?” he asked, suppressing a sigh.

 

“So...you two were busy last night,” Louie said and smirked.

 

“It seems I’m not the only one who made poor choices last night,” Mrs. Beakley muttered in his ear and Scrooge jerked, glowering at her.

 

“What the blazes is that supposed to mean?!” he demanded.

 

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” she said, looking oddly smug too. Heaven save him from satisfied females. Goldie chose that moment to look up and smirk back at Bentina. Scrooge wanted to bang his head into the table.

 

“Whatever you think happened--” Scrooge started, indignant.

 

Webby looked up from her book, stared at Scrooge and Goldie, and her frown deepened. She wasn’t exactly Goldie’s biggest fan after the woman had locked her and her grandmother up in a cabinet.

 

“Don’t say it,” Scrooge snapped. “I dinnae wanna hear it.”

 

“Ooh...is she your new old girlfriend?” Huey teased.

 

“When are you two getting married?” Dewey teased.

 

“Oh, right about when he gives me his fortune,” Goldie said, unperturbed. “Although, maybe last night is enough to convince me otherwise. Maybe.”

 

Scrooge went scarlet beneath his white feathers and Goldie hummed. It wasn’t just any tune, of course. It was what he’d been singing last night and if he got any hotter, he’d be a roast duck. He was going to wring her neck. The worst part was that this was a completely inappropriate time to be doing that, in front of the children, not to mention Beakley. And he couldn’t call her out on it because then he’d have to explain why she was doing this in the first place.

 

“Ooh, so what were you two up to last night?” Huey asked in that same mocking tone.

 

“Judging by the fact that Goldie’s wearing Uncle Scrooge’s robe…” Webby started and Mrs. Beakley shoved breakfast on the table in front of her granddaughter.

 

“No speculation at breakfast!” she snapped. Scrooge’s heart, which had stopped at Webby’s sentence, restarted. Oh, he was too old for this. And of course, leave it to Beakley to have explained to her precocious granddaughter all about sex.

 

“Huh...you’re right,” Louie said. “She is wearing Uncle Scrooge’s robe. That begs the question of where her clothes are.”

 

Goldie glanced over at him and she was grinning wickedly.

 

“Don’t. You. Dare,” he snapped.

 

“What? The boy asked a question. I hardly think it’s polite to refuse to answer,” Goldie said innocently. Well, feigned innocence, because that woman hadn’t been innocent the day she’d hatched.

 

“Goldie…” he growled.

 

“They are in the wash,” Mrs. Beakley huffed. “Now, enough of this. Eat your breakfast, all of you.”

  
She gave Scrooge a dirty look and, to his consternation, he found himself bristling.

 

“As though you have a leg to stand on! Where were you last night, Beakley?” he snapped at her.

 

“Wait...what’s going on?” Dewey said, frowning. “What happened after we went to sleep? And why did Uncle Donald flee the room?”

 

“It hardly matters where I was,” Mrs. Beakley retorted. “All that matters is that I arrived here in time to prepare breakfast and get you ready for your daily activities.”

 

“This is getting weird…” Webby said. “Where were you last night, Granny?”

 

Scrooge scrutinized Beakley and the source of her vexation grew apparent.

 

“Hypocrite!” he announced.

 

“I am not having this conversation with you in front of the children!” Beakley shot back.

 

“Oh, no, go on,” Goldie said, leaning forward. “This is much more entertaining than food.”

 

“Just eat!” Mrs. Beakley pleaded and, startled into silence, the children obeyed. Goldie remained still, watching his housekeeper and Scrooge with a smirk. Ack, the worst part of it was it was hard to be that irritated with Goldie considering what they’d done last night. He should’ve known better than to let her stay, however. The boys were bound to start asking questions again soon.

 

He cast a quick glance at Webby, whose head was down as if her food required her full concentration. Of course, Webby already knew.

 

“I’ll eat,” Goldie promised with a scintillating smile. “I’ll need energy for later. I was impressed with your stamina earlier.”

 

“Stamina?” Louie said, stopping. “Stamina for...oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. I did not want to think about that. Old people are so gross!”

 

“Think about what?” Dewey said, baffled, looking at his younger brother.

 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Louie said.

 

“Enough!” Scrooge said. “Everyone, eat! And stop looking at me like you want to eat me, Goldie!”

 

“Well, if you insist…” Goldie said with a smirk. “But you’ll have to return the favor later.”

 

Scrooge choked on his eggs and she grinned, sipping her orange juice with nary a care in the world. Mrs. Beakley huffed, scarfing down food, perhaps in a vain attempt to escape. The kids were doing likewise, at least the ones who’d figured it out. Dewey still looked confused and Scrooge had no intention of informing him about this. If he didn’t know, then it was Donald’s job, not his.

 

“All right,” Mrs. Beakley said once she’d finished. “Let us never speak of this breakfast again.”

 

“Way ahead of you,” Louie said. “I’m going to stare at my phone until they invent brain bleach.”

 

“And I’m going to stare at the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook until the world makes sense again,” Huey said.

 

“Good luck with that,” Goldie said and Scrooge growled at her. She shrugged.

 

Webby gathered up her book and didn’t speak, which struck Scrooge as both fortuitous and suspicious. He’d deal with it later. He’d deal with all of this later.

 

Although he really did want to take Goldie up on her offer…

 

Mrs. Beakley snapped a newspaper at his head and he rolled his eyes at her. Yes, yes, he got it. He and Goldie left with Goldie wrapping an arm about Scrooge’s waist. She was right, though. Breakfast should provide good energy for later...activities.

 

* * *

 

“I told you not to go out last night,” Duckworth said as Mrs. Beakley scrubbed the breakfast dishes.

 

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

 

“Oh, no,” he reassured her. “I’m perfectly content rubbing it in.”

 

“Like you never made a mistake in your life,” she retorted.

 

“I hardly think sleeping with the enemy is a trifle.”

 

She waved the dish rag at his head and muttered under her breath. Duckworth smirked, which was the last straw. She flung the dish rag through his head, which she knew he hated, and then sprayed the kitchen sink hose at him until he disappeared. He’d be back, though. He’d never miss a chance to rub it in.

 

What was she going to do? Well, aside from the obvious, which was pretend it had never happened. Somehow, considering the breakfast debacle, she thought that might not work out as she’d planned. Damn her libido.

 

At least her mistake wasn’t still hanging around the manor. That was a blessing, for now. She fully anticipated her to return. And when she did, Mrs. Beakley could only hope that the kids were either out or too well distracted to notice.

 

Curse her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby has a nightmare and seeks out the triplets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one-shot. I’m still afraid to write that smut. JFC. This is me dancing around it.
> 
> But this is cute, nonetheless. Just...fluffy and not what I had wanted to write.

 

Webby was afraid that if she went back to sleep, the nightmare would continue. Shuddering, she crept out of her room and into the boys’ room. It wasn’t hard to find Dewey’s bunk and she crawled in beside him. She was still shaking, the nightmare holding her tightly in its grip, and she wasn’t sure she’d wake him by snuggling up against him. She wasn’t sure it mattered.

 

“Webby?” Dewey said sleepily. “This is our room…”

 

“I know, I know,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep, okay?”

 

“What’s the matter?” 

 

His voice was still logy and she winced, feeling bad for having stirred him. Not bad enough to leave, mind you, but bad nonetheless. It was the first time she’d dared come into the boys’ room over a nightmare. Normally, she stayed in her room and rode it out, but there was something about that last dream that had her unnerved. 

 

Dewey threw the blanket over her too. There was just barely enough room for both of them in his bunk and she could feel his eyes searching hers in the darkness. She hadn’t answered him and she felt the other two boys stirring. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe she’d have been better off staying in her room and reading until the nightmare’s effects passed.

 

“Webs?” Louie murmured.

 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll just--” she tried to move away, but Dewey hugged her. She shivered in his arms and resigned herself to having to repeat the nightmare. Somehow, she’d thought if she just came in here, she’d be able to escape questioning. In her mind, she’d thought they’d stay asleep and she’d be able to relax and not have the nightmare continue in peace.

 

“It must’ve been bad, for you to come in here,” Huey said from the top bunk.

 

“I dreamt about Lena,” Webby admitted. She’d not allowed the boys to glimpse most of her grieving. As far as they knew, she was over it, as much as it was possible to be over your best friend betraying you and then perishing to keep her aunt from murdering you. Come to think of it, maybe it wasn’t that surprising she wasn’t over this.

 

“You never talk about her,” Huey said.

 

“I don’t want to,” Webby said and her voice was tight. She closed her eyes and swallowed back tears. Dewey rested his forehead against hers and she drew a deep, bracing breath. She’d felt a kinship with Dewey from the beginning. They were somewhat similar in how they approached new information and sought to unravel mysteries. Besides, climbing over the bottom bunk was easier than climbing up both bunks to reach Huey, with whom she considered herself closer than Louie, but not as close as Dewey.

 

“What was the nightmare about?” Louie asked and it sounded like he’d resigned himself to not sleeping tonight.

 

“I dreamt she wasn’t a shadow,” Webby whispered, barely audible to herself. “I dreamt she was real and Magica, instead of using her scepter to eradicate her, slit her throat.”

 

“That’s...intense,” Huey said.

 

“I...I have intense nightmares,” she admitted, wishing she could pull away. As if Dewey had perceived her thoughts, he pulled her closer. She was shaking again and he stroked her hair. This was her family. They were supposed to be there for her. She was supposed to let them be there for her.

 

“You’re not kidding,” Louie said. “Why would you dream about  _ that _ ?”

 

Webby’s voice was so low she was mouthing the words now. “My parents.”

 

“What?” Huey said. Despite being above her, he hadn’t heard her.

 

“Your parents?” Dewey repeated. “You never talk about them.”

 

“I kinda assumed you didn’t want to,” Louie added. “You helped us try to figure out what happened to Mom, but you never talked about your parents.”

 

“They were spies and they got caught. Grandma’s cover was blown and...I ended up here.” 

 

She was shaking harder and Dewey brushed his fingers along her cheek.

 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “It’s okay.”

 

“Sorry,” she said, swallowing past a lump in her throat. She struggled against Dewey’s embrace, not hard enough to really break it, though. It was more like token resistance. She knew she ought to let the matter drop, but she had never spoken about this with anyone. Her grandmother didn’t like to talk about it and Mr. McDuck didn’t know about it, at least not all the details.

 

“Did what happened to Lena in your dream happen to your parents?” Louie asked.

 

“I don’t know. Granny wouldn’t tell me. But I kinda have a strong imagination.”

 

“Didn’t notice,” Louie muttered and Dewey aimed a kick below him at his younger brother. He missed and thumped his leg against the side of the bed. 

 

“Ow…” Dewey muttered.

 

“I was afraid if I stayed in my room, the dream would keep going,” Webby admitted.

 

“I’ve had dreams like that,” Huey admitted. “You can stay as long as you want.”

 

“Thanks, guys,” she murmured, grateful they hadn’t asked any further questions. She relaxed in Dewey’s arms and hugged him back.

 

“Hey, Webs?” Louie called up.

 

“Yeah?” she said, sensing the other two heading back to sleep.

 

“If you ever wanna talk...we’ll listen. I mean it. We’re family, right?”

 

As he said this, she thought both of Scrooge telling her that she wasn’t family and then telling her that she and Dewey were family during that strange event where they’d been shrunken down during Family Game Night. She didn’t know what to believe with him. Nonetheless, she nodded. Maybe she wasn’t entirely family with Scrooge, but she was with the boys.

 

“Right,” she said.

  
“Night, Webs.”

 

“Night, Louie. Night, Huey. Night, Dewey.”

 

“Night,” Huey and Dewey yawned.

 

She clenched her eyes shut and prayed that the image of Lena’s throat bleeding profusely didn’t come back to haunt her. When she was younger, she’d imagine all the ways that her parents could have died. She’d never told her grandmother, for fear she’d alarm her. So she kept it all to herself and only freaked herself out. That seemed fair, somehow.

 

Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but then again, Webby hadn’t had the most normal upbringing anyway. 

 

Dewey was stroking her hair in his sleep and she smiled. Maybe this was a chance to start again. Maybe this time...she wouldn’t lose anyone she cared about. She let her forehead rest against Dewey’s and smiled.

 

“G’night, Mom and Dad…” she whispered and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena works out her trust issues with Violet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been sitting on this for a WEEK. OMG. I've been dying for this to air in English here. 
> 
> Spoilers, of course, for Friendship Hates Magic. 
> 
> WebLena, but not in your face about it. Could be read as friendship.

Three little ducks in a row. Webby’s bed was small and narrow, which meant that they’d had to steal a guest bed to lie side by side. Webby was in the middle, with Lena on her left and Violet on her right. They were all holding hands and Lena luxuriated in the fact she could hold hands, that she had a physical body again. She’d never properly appreciated it.

 

They were supposed to be doing meditation or something like it, but Lena had tuned out that noise a while ago. Instead, she studied Webby’s face with her eyes closed. Looking at her made her chest ache. She still remembered how she’d felt at the idea that Violet could steal Webby away and that she might lose the only friend she’d ever had. Webby had cared for her because of who she was, not what she was. She was the first person Lena had ever met to do so.

 

Lena’s feelings on Violet were less clear. She didn’t hate the sabrewing as she had before, but she wasn’t as enamored with her as Webby was. She had Violet to thank for possessing a physical body again, Violet and Webby. It was almost fitting, in that Lena had lost even her shadow self from Magica in an effort to protect Webby. She didn’t even know if it’d helped. She’d been lost in nothingness for a while before assuming Webby’s shadow.

 

Clearly, Duckburg had returned to normal, as she’d seen in the three months that she’d been Webby’s tail. Magica was conspicuously absent, which struck Lena as unsettling, but she didn’t care about that right now. She didn’t have Magica on her back (literally) and she was holding Webby’s hand while the girl continued her guided meditation. She was talking about calm waters and a beach and affection for her swamped Lena.

 

Webby was hers. She was hers and she could keep her. Well, hers and Violet’s. She’d have to learn to share her, which didn’t exactly thrill Lena, but whatever. It was a small price to pay to be able to touch and feel again. To be alive again.

 

“You know, you’re supposed to keep your eyes closed,” Violet scolded and Lena huffed at her.

 

“How do you know if I have them open?” she countered.

 

“I can feel you staring.”

 

“I’m not staring at you.”

 

Webby sat up, stopping mid-sentence, and noticed that although she was holding hands normally with Violet, Lena had interlaced her fingers with Webby’s. Webby pulled her hand away, which sent a pang through Lena’s chest, and then a softer one when Webby cupped Lena’s face in her hand.

 

“I was never going to forget about you, you beautiful idiot,” Webby said softly. “Why were you so scared?”

 

Lena opened her beak to respond and then spied Violet. Violet opened her eyes to regard them both and Lena’s throat was tight. That was another reason she was uneasy about the other girl. Violet was shrewd and intelligent, more of a match for Webby than Lena was. And maybe Violet made Lena feel the tiniest bit insecure.

 

“Lena?” Webby prodded.

 

“It’s nothing,” Lena lied.

 

“It’s not ‘nothing’,” Violet huffed. “You conjured up a bunch of malevolent spirits because you were afraid of losing her. You tried to keep her for yourself because you were afraid if you didn’t, you’d lose her forever.”

 

Lena didn’t curse Violet out, though she wanted to. She also wanted to flip her off, but for Webby’s sake, refrained.

 

“Okay, fine, I was worried,” Lena admitted. She might as well come out with it since Violet was forcing the issue. “I thought with Violet here, your new ‘soulmate’, you’d move on. I mean, she’s perfect for you. She’s a nerd, she’s lived a sheltered life, she’s meddling with things she doesn’t understand, and she doesn’t have an evil hag on her back. She’s probably way better than me.”

 

“Okay, one, I can’t help having things in common with Webbigail,” Violet said and Lena interjected.

 

“That’s another thing. Why are you calling her by her full name? That’s weird. No one calls her Webbigail.”

 

“You’re nitpicking,” Violet said sharply.

 

“Am I? Am I really?” Lena countered.

 

“And in response to your comments, just because Webby and I are alike doesn’t mean that she’d forget about you. You’re her first true friend. You sacrificed yourself for her. How could anyone ever forget about that?” Violet said. She looked like she wanted to add something else, perhaps something less than flattering, but clamped her beak shut on it. Lena was grateful. She didn’t need any more snippiness.

 

“Exactly,” Webby said. She was still cupping Lena’s cheek and Lena blushed.

 

“I love you. I love both of you. Who says I have to choose? I don’t think I do. I want to keep both of you and I will,” Webby said. “It’s like making me choose between the triplets. They’re all my brothers.”

 

Lena rolled her eyes. One or two of said triplets weren’t necessarily feeling brotherly toward her, but she wasn’t about to bring that up right now. Heaven knew Webby was normally oblivious to that sort of thing.

 

“Besides, why would you want me to reject you?” Webby pressed and leaned her forehead against Lena’s. “I could never do that.”

 

 _My self-esteem, for one thing_ , Lena thought. _Or lack thereof thanks to “Aunt” Magica._

 

Violet surprised her then. She released Webby’s hand and hugged Lena. Lena, whose only source of hugs before had been Webby and then, before her, no one, was stunned. Violet looked up at her, because, of course, all of Webby’s associates were younger than Lena or whatever age counted for in the shadow realm.

 

“If Webbigail likes you, then I guess I have to too, don’t I?” Violet said and smiled at her. “We’ll make it work, Lena.”

 

“Let’s do something else,” Webby suggested. “We’ve been lying on that bed for ages. I know! Let’s play board games!”

 

Then, bounding off with excess energy, Webby sprang into action and out the door. Lena watched her with bemusement and Violet released her. She turned to the younger girl.

 

“You don’t have to be afraid, you know.”

 

“I’m not afraid,” Lena scoffed.

 

“Yes, you are,” Violet said, implacable. “But you don’t have to be. We can be friends too. It’ll all work out, as long as you stop being so darn stubborn. Now, c’ mon, before Webby gets ahead of herself and buries herself in board games.”

 

Lena’s beak twitched. “You said ‘Webby’.”

 

Violet smiled. “I did, didn’t I?”

 

She offered her hand to Lena and Lena took it. It felt weird and unnatural compared to holding hands with Webby, which was as effortless as breathing, but...maybe she could work with this too. Maybe things weren’t as dire as she was used to them being. After all, Magica was gone and she could breathe again. Magica didn’t know she’d returned and she didn’t need to know. Maybe, for once in her life, Lena could just be a kid.

 

She thought she might enjoy that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WebLena, albeit one-sided as far as we can tell. This takes place after The Shadow Wars but before Friendship Hates Magic.

She was cold. She hated the shadow realm more than anything, although perhaps not more than her "aunt" Magica. Even if she was attached to Webby, at least she was free from Magica's condemnation. it was a sad, lonely existence if you could even call it an existence, but it was better in some ways than what she'd endured before. Jeez, her life was pathetic.  
  
Webby had no idea she was there. Of course, she didn't. She'd proceeded on with her life in that way that some people had, where they weren't utterly devastated by the loss. Webby had been trying for three months to resurrect Lena, but she'd not been moping about the manor or sticking to herself. In all respects, Webby had acted almost normal around the triplets and the adults. Only when she was in private did she let herself grieve.  
  
And that hurt, because Lena wanted to tell Webby that she was right there, that she would never leave her, but Webby could not hear her. No matter what Lena tried, no matter how much she screamed, Webby was oblivious. Lena had taken to cursing when she could get away with it, seeing as no one had any clue what she was about.  
  
Well, anyone except Duckworth. Duckworth, it seemed, could tell she was there, even if he wasn't quite sure what she was. She was a phantom even to a ghost, which had to be a new low. Whatever he thought she was, he hadn't told Webby, which Lena considered a jerk move. Not that she could do or say anything about it because, hey, basically a giant NPC here. Not even an NPC. The shadow person you were in WoW when you were running toward your body. That was what she was.  
  
She hated it here. So much. And she was always cold because there was no warmth in the shadow realm. There wasn't much of anything here, to be honest. When she wasn't trailing Webby, she was free to wander, but there was no point in it.  
  
God, it was exactly like running toward your body in WoW, except your body wasn't there and you could never be revived.  
  
Being alone with her thoughts was torture in its own way. She realized to her horror that the feelings she'd had toward Webby had evolved and she was falling in love with her. It was funny because now that Lena no longer had Magica literally attached to her, she couldn't do anything about how she felt. She was utterly powerless to act. Magica would have loved the delicious irony.  
  
She watched Webby and Dewey with agonizing jealousy. She hated Dewey, not because of anything he'd done, but because of how close he was to Webby. Because he could touch her whenever he wanted and talk to her. Because he existed and Lena didn't. Lena felt tears well up again and stifled them. She was not going to cry. She was not going to capitulate to this. Not again. It wasn't that anyone could hear her, because they couldn't, but because every time she cried, she heard Magica berating her.  
  
Man, that sorceress had left Lena with a few nasty mental scars.  
  
When Flintheart Glomgold had nearly drowned Webby, Lena hated her position even more. She wanted to kill that disgusting man with her bare hands. She wanted to wring his neck and then, when he came up for air, she wanted to drown him until he choked on water. She wanted him dead so badly that it haunted her for days. Lena didn't know what would become of her if Webby died, not that it mattered there either because Lena was, for all intents and purposes, basically dead anyway. But she loved Webby so much that the idea of a world without her, even if it was a world without Lena, was unbearable.  
  
She was thankful to Louie for rescuing Webby, even if it shouldn't have been necessary. Even if Glomgold shouldn't have been such a humongous wad and shouldn't have thrown her overboard in the first place. The only good thing about this was that hatred warmed her...but it also disgusted her once she realized she was acting just like Magica. Magica would have wanted her to loathe Glomgold too.  
  
So Lena, albeit reluctantly, gave up on her grudge. She would still hate Glomgold, but not with the same fiery passion she had before.  
  
When Della returned, after Lena had gotten over the whole "who is this strange person and why is Webby acting like a giant fangirl" moment, things had sort of settled into another weird pattern. Webby was being excluded from the whole family dynamic. Not by the boys, mind you, but by Della. Lena had come to think of Webby as the unofficial fourth nephew. Della treating Webby like an afterthought at best grated Lena and she wished she could give the woman a piece of her mind.  
  
Then again, Della was already doing better at parenting than Magica ever could because Della cared enough to try. Magica had never had the patience for anything but her own schemes.  
  
Webby was lonely, thinking of her parents, and in her nightly ramblings to Lena, she confessed that she was jealous of the triplets for having had their mother back. It was impossible for her parents to return, seeing as they had perished in a FOWL related incident.  
  
Webby liked rambling at her friendship bracelet and pretending Lena could hear. Lena liked hearing Webby's voice, even if she couldn't respond to anything she said. Webby cried for the first time in nearly three months talking about her parents, which seemed to be a taboo subject regardless, and Lena broke down too. She hated seeing her best friend this upset and knowing there was nothing she could do about it.  
  
She wasn't expecting Webby to work miracles or bring Lena back from the shadow realm. As pathetic as it was, Lena had almost gotten used to being a phantom of a phantom. She couldn't say she entirely liked it, but it wasn't as bad as it could've been. And, in some ways, it was an improvement.  
  
"Webby, I love you," she whispered when the girl finally turned off the lights and climbed into bed. Although Webby couldn't hear her, she imagined that the younger girl had smiled at the sentiment.  
  
Lena had no need for sleep since she wasn't technically alive. And for once, she was glad that Webby couldn't hear her now...because, also for the first time in months, Lena too capitulated to her tears and wept bitterly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speculation on that dream episode that's airing in September. It definitely won't be this brutal, but...this was fun to write, regardless. And Dewey, you are so clueless.
> 
> Also, implied WebLena. Just...one-sided as far as Lena knows.

Thunder boomed and clouds gathered on the horizon. Rain lashed the ground in sheets and made it impossible to see anything, not even one's beak in front of one's face. The rain pounded at Lena's back and crushed to the muddy ground. If that weren't bad enough, Magica's heel dug into Lena's spine and when the shadow girl tried to extricate herself, Magica pushed down harder. Between the rain and her "aunt", Lena could barely breathe.  
  
"I told you, dumb, dumb little Lena, that there would be a price to pay for betraying me," Magica said and ground her heel deeper into Lena's spine. Lena yelped, pained tears forming in her eyes. Magica sneered, kicking Lena in the head and sending her face first into the mud. When she attempted to breathe, she got a mouthful of muck.  
  
Magica cackled and kicked her in the head again, so hard that she saw stars. This wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.  
  
"Pathetic little shadow. Did you really think your friends would come to save you?  _Friends?_  You're a shadow. A freak of nature. Anyone with any intelligence should have kicked you to the curb. I should have killed you and then destroyed your shadow self. Clearly, killing you once wasn't enough."  
  
Lena fought to get her arms underneath her and shove. Magica ground her heel into Lena's spine and then, leaning down, punched her in the head. Lena whimpered, hoping against hope that the others would put an end to this. She shouldn't have allowed for the possibility of dream walking. Magica would hurt all of them. There was no escape from her. There never would be.  
  
Magica stepped off her then and Lena rolled over, panting. When she met her aunt's eyes, she shuddered. Cruelty was writ large on her face. Before Lena had a chance to recover, Magica swept her to her feet and then pulled her arm behind her back at a sharp angle. Lena used her free hand to punch her in the face and then hissed when magic exploded from Magica's staff. (How had she gotten the staff when it'd transformed into her amulet? It shouldn't be possible).  
  
The magic blasted Lena back a few paces and brought her to her knees.  
  
"You thought Webster would come for you. You thought Scroogie would care what happened to you. You were wrong. No one's coming for you. No one cares what happens to you. No one will ever care. Wendy has a new best friend and she was the only one pulling for you, wasn't she?"  
  
"Violet cares about me," Lena said. Her voice was weak and tremulous.  
  
Magica laughed in her face.  
  
"None of them will even know what happened here because no one will look. Because they're too busy enjoying each other's dreams to rescue you from your nightmare. There is no rescue, you sentimental fool. You monster. Because there's no escaping from me. I'm in your mind and that's where I'll stay. Forever."  
  
"Magica de Spell!" Webby shouted and Lena's heart lifted. She turned her head to spy the others, all of them, even the boys, coming toward her. The rain lessened, permitting Lena to stand on her own two feet, and when she swayed, Webby and Violet caught her.  
  
"You're wrong," Lena said with quiet conviction. "They'll always come for me because they care about me. Because that's something you'll never have, you evil witch. No one will ever care about you."  
  
"Is that so?" Magica retorted.  
  
"Yes, it is," Webby said fiercely. She hugged Lena to her and butterflies erupted in Lena's stomach. Magica's sneer grew crueler if that was possible. The sorceress was practically alight with malice.  
  
"You have feelings for her," Magica said and laughed.  
  
"What?" Webby said, looking completely baffled. Magica might've been a construct of Lena's imagination, but Webby was not. Lena's butterflies soured and she felt like she might be sick. She glowered at Magica.  
  
"Shut up," she snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about, 'Aunt' Magica."  
  
"Of course she has feelings for her. They're friends, right?" Dewey said and Lena could've kissed him for that idiotic response. But something told her Magica wouldn't buy it.  
  
Magica simply smiled. "Until next time, little Lena. I'll be watching."  
  
The rain cleared up and the thunder ceased. Webby turned to regard her best friend.  
  
"What was she talking about, Lena?" Webby asked and cupped her cheek in her palm. Lena's mind raced. It was just like Magica, real or not, to use Lena's feelings against her. If the real Magica had known about Lena's sentiments, she would have destroyed her with them. Now her self-loathing could do that for her. Great.  
  
"Nothing. Can we just get out of here?" Lena asked.  
  
"Yeah...let's go into Dewey's dream," Huey said, casting a curious glance at the shadow teenager. Lena glowered at him until he looked away.  
  
"Yeah, we're Deweying it!" Dewey announced and everyone groaned.  
  
"No matter how many times you try to make that a thing, it's not," Louie informed him. Like Huey, he wasn't convinced that Lena was telling the truth. She hated them both at that moment.  
  
"Are you certain you're all right?" Violet asked Lena in an undertone as they jumped from her mind to Dewey's.  
  
"Fine," Lena spat. "Dandy."  
  
Violet's eyes widened and she lowered her voice further to prevent Webby from eavesdropping. "It's all right to have feelings for Webbigail, you know."  
  
"I don't need to hear it from you too, nerd," Lena said, but there was no rancor in her tone, only resignation.  
  
On impulse, Violet hugged her. "Don't beat yourself up, Lena."  
  
Lena scoffed. "Yeah, right. I'm sure my subconscious would be happy to do it for me."  
  
"Lena..." Violet said softly.  
  
They landed in Dewey's dream and the conversation ended. She was grateful to have the focus shifted off of her and cursed in her mind. If it was so obvious that her version of Magica was picking up on it, not to mention Violet and Huey, then it was a small miracle Webby hadn't noticed yet. Then again, Webby could be oblivious to these things, for which Lena was grateful.  
  
She watched Webby with a pang in her chest. She didn't deserve her. Violet squeezed Lena's hand and Lena suppressed a sigh. No, she didn't deserve either of them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shot from the Welcome to Dragonburg universe.

It was cold and some jerk had broken one of her windows during Mischief Night. Lena curled into herself and shivered, the threadbare blanket barely giving her enough warmth. Angry, hoping that the rage would lend her warmth, she searched for something to cover the giant gaping hole. When she got her hands on that little cretin, they'd be sorry they ever messed with a de Spell.  
  
By the time she was done covering it over, she was shivering so violently that her teeth were chattering. While she waited for the room to warm again, she huddled back under her blanket. She could have stayed over at McDragon Manor tonight. Webby had wanted her to and, to be honest, Lena had yearned for it. McDragon Manor was warm and safe. But it was also where Magica wanted her to be and right now, she was not in the mood to play nice with her aunt.  
  
Her aunt had caused her to pass out from a migraine earlier. If Lena squinted, she could still see auras. If upsetting her aunt meant depriving herself of something Lena wanted too, then she'd do it. But for the love of all that was holy, did it have to be on the coldest November night thus far this year? Her teeth chattered and she hugged herself.  
  
It'd been a week since she'd returned to her sad excuse of a flat and she hadn't missed it. Next to her, her phone was vibrating, letting her know that Webby or Dewey or someone wanted a piece of her. She turned without leaving the dubious warmth of the blanket to look at the screen. Her frown deepened.  
  
Della. Why the fuck was Della of all people calling her? How had she even gotten the number?  
  
Maybe she ought to answer and find out what the woman wanted. She didn't understand the Dragon family dynamic. She also didn't understand why someone tangentially known to her would care what had befallen her.  
  
"Hello?" Lena said, hissing when she'd needed to take her hand out from underneath the covers to bring the phone closer to her ear.  
  
"I know you're not my daughter," Della started without preamble. "And I know that you're my honorary daughter's best friend. But Webby and Dewey have told me about where you live when you're not here. You should come back. Now."  
  
"Bit late to be pretending to be a mother, isn't it?" Lena snapped. She was hoping by wounding Della, she'd get her to leave her alone.  
  
Della didn't take the bait.  
  
"I deserved that," Della said. "I feel like an imposter every day. But you're too young to be out on your own and that crap apartment you call 'home' is dangerous, Lena."  
  
"I'm fine," Lena snapped.  
  
"You sound cold."  
  
Lena cursed inwardly. "How do you know I'm cold? I'm not cold. I'm perfectly fine. I'm hot, even."  
  
"A mother always knows," Della said sagely.  
  
Lena wondered if Della could out-stubborn her. Lena wanted to be left alone, even if it was in a hellscape. Meanwhile, Della wanted what she thought was best for Lena. In truth, it would be better for Lena, but not for the reasons Della thought.  
  
"You're not my mother," Lena said. Wow, out of all the lame responses she could've said, that was definitely high.  
  
"I know. You need someone to look after you," she said and then added, "Heaven knows your aunt doesn't seem to."  
  
Lena covered the phone to muffle her dark laughter. No, her aunt didn't look after her, not unless you counted torture as looking after someone. When she laughed, however, the sheet shifted and her teeth chattered again. The room wasn't getting any warmer.  
  
"Lena," Della said in a warning tone. "Am I going to have to sic Webby and Dewey on you?"  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Lena said. In her mind, she heard Magica hiss, "Yes!" But she wasn't doing it for her. She was doing it because if she stayed here any longer, she'd freeze parts of her body off.  
  


* * *

  
  
When she arrived back at the manor, Webby tackle hugged her to the floor.  
  
"LENA!" she cried, all excited. "You're back!"  
  
"Yeah, I'm back," Lena said, playing it cool. Her heart thudded in her chest and she hugged Webby back. She didn't want to let her go, but part of her facade was pretending Webby didn't affect her as strongly as she did. And pretending that she wasn't in love with her.  
  
Webby squealed. "We were playing a game, but now that you're here, I can have you on my team! Team Webby!"  
  
She hauled her along by the hand and Lena pretended she couldn't hear Magica extolling her to get the elixir. This was why she hadn't wanted to return. This was why she'd rather be cold and miserable than warm and tingling. Oh, how badly she wanted to kiss Webby. And how badly she needed to keep that under wraps from Aunt Magica.  
  
Lena was back on her best behavior and pretending to be chill, all the while keeping everyone at arm's length. She was good at that, which was why it hurt that no one saw through the facade. No one was looking, true, which meant she was doing her job, maybe a bit too well. She wished she could tell Webby what was going on, in the very least, but Aunt Magica had put that geas on her for a reason and it wasn't to go blabbing.  
  
She was so miserable and alone. And no one knew it but her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Modern Myth one-shot.

It was a dank, dismal day in FOWL HQ. Steelbeak was in a foul mood and Black Heron was equally snippy. She'd 'accidentally' fired her laser at Webby twice during training and then laughed it off, but there'd been murder in her eyes. Needless to say, Webby had skedaddled as soon as possible back to her room, which was slim comfort.

  
At eleven years old, Webby was precocious, but not enough for Steelbeak. She had yet to commit her first major crime and in her secret heart, she had no desire to. Petty larceny was one thing. Committing murder was something else. She couldn't hurt someone unless it was self-defense or a glancing blow. Murder would be pre-meditated and would cross a line she'd sooner avoid.

  
So she sat in her room and stared at the pages of a book she'd long since memorized. The air was stale and she felt stagnant. It'd been years since she'd seen the sun in person. It'd been years since she'd breathed fresh air. And it'd been years since she'd felt love. Steelbeak didn't love her. He tolerated her at the worst and felt like she was an extension of himself at best.

  
Black Heron loathed her, but that was a given.

  
Sometimes, when she was bored and lonely, she imagined what it might be like to flee this place and have friends her own age. To even see people her own age would be a novelty. Ever since she'd come here, she'd yet to see another child. She heard about them, namely Gosalyn Mallard, a thorn in her father's side. But she'd never seen or met one.

  
It might be nice. She might enjoy herself. That was all conjecture, though, wasn't it? She groaned. It was all pointless rumination.

  
She pulled open her hidden drawer compartment to look at the map she'd secretly scribbled of the HQ. Or, at least, she'd opened her drawer. The map was gone, along with everything else. Someone had cleaned her out again. The only reason the book was still here was that she'd taken it with her and brought it back.

  
She cursed and wilted. Oh, what was the point? She didn't own anything here, not even her heart. She half-heartedly threw the book across the small room, no bigger than a broom closet, and crashed onto her bed. Her bed. That was a joke. Her whole life was a joke, a bad one.

  
And she wasn't laughing. Far from it.


	10. This is War one-shot (number one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this is canon for TiW yet. I guess we'll see when I get further along in the series.

It didn't seem possible for him to have developed a crush on Webby so quickly. Louie was still afraid of her and Huey was cautious. But Dewey, well, he'd never listened to his brain so much as his heart. And his heart told him that he had a crush on Webby, so he listened to that instead.

She was scary, yes, but he'd heard that the right woman should always scare you just a little. Besides, he had the feeling there was more to her than met the eye. She was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a mystery (he'd heard that in a show once) and he wanted to find out more about her. She seemed to trust him, too, which was part of the problem. He didn't want to jeopardize this thing they had by moving too fast.

But gods, did he want to kiss her. He'd waited until the others were gone and it was him and Webby alone in the living room. Well, one of the living rooms, anyway. This manor had so many damn rooms that you kind of had to refer to them by where they were located rather than giving names such as "living room". It was the complete opposite of Uncle Donald's houseboat.

"Webby?" he queried and she frowned, looking at him earnestly. He had the impression she didn't let herself be unguarded around many people and felt honored that she'd chosen him.

"Hmm?" she asked. She'd been wrapping up the board game they'd played and putting it away. Dewey stepped closer and Webby froze. That was what he'd been afraid of.

"Can I just..." Dewey faltered and then cupped her cheek in his palm. Mustering his courage, he brushed his beak against hers. Webby's jaw dropped.

"Oh!" she said and blushed scarlet.

"Sorry, sorry...you just look so kissable. I know that's not an excuse, but--" he stopped. Webby's eyes were huge and she was gazing at him strangely now.

Then, before he had a chance to do anything else, she kissed him back. His first thought, odd as it was, was that she was offering him a re-do because he hadn't kissed her right. His second was pure giddiness that she was kissing him. For her, this was a massive display of affection. He didn't feel equal to it.

When they broke apart, her eyes were bright and her forehead rested against his. They both panted for a minute and gazed into each other's eyes.

"Webs?" Dewey murmured.

She swept him up in a tight hug. "Thank you...thank you for everything..."

"I don't know what you're thanking me for, but you're welcome?" he said, baffled.

Webby smiled and played with his little cowlick. Her smile turned sly.

"Feel free to kiss me any time you like," she said.

"I'm gonna take you up on that," he replied.

She grinned. "Please do."


	11. This is War (one-shot number 2)

She'd cried herself to sleep last night. That was the thing she remembered. This morning, she'd awoken with a headache and the dreadful feeling she'd forgotten something. When she looked up, it was to discover her grandmother sitting in her bedroom. The door. She'd forgotten to lock it.

"Good morning, Webbigail," Agent 22 said quietly. She pulled Webby into her arms and Webby pushed away, head down.

"How long have you been here?" Webby demanded.

"All night."

That would explain the lack of nightmares, or, rather, the nightmares altering and becoming less toxic. Still, that meant her grandmother had seen her vulnerable. No, Agent 22 had seen her vulnerable. Agent 22 was SHUSH, the enemy. But she was also her grandmother. Black Heron would've capitalized on this immediately. Had, in fact. For a few seconds, Webby was glad the woman was dead.

Her grandmother smoothed her hair back. "You cry in your sleep too. What do you dream about?"

"Nothing," Webby lied.

"I wasn't hatched yesterday," she reprimanded and then, in a softer tone, added, "You can tell me. I promise I won't use the information against you if that's what you're afraid of. I just want to help you."

Black Heron had 'helped' her by nearly killing her that night. Webby shut down, refusing to look at Agent 22 or acknowledge her request. Mrs. Beakley sighed, still stroking Webby's hair. Try as she might, she couldn't deny that it was soothing. It made her want to confide in her, which was dangerous. It set a bad precedent.

"Sometimes," she mumbled, not looking at her, "I dream about what FOWL used to do to traitors."

Mrs. Beakley shifted closer and put an arm about her. Webby finally looked up into her eyes and the compassion and concern there felt like a blow to the chest. She'd never seen that expression on Steelbeak's face, but she saw it here all the time. It brought tears to her eyes again, even though she could have sworn she'd cried herself out.

"FOWL is never going to touch you again," her grandmother swore. "What did they do?"

"They wanted...they wanted to teach me a lesson...I attended my first execution when I was six..."

And although she'd have sworn up and down too that it didn't bother her, that the hanging hadn't affected her still, she burst into tears. All at once, she was that terrified little girl, standing there watching the traitor agent sway back and forth on his platform while the cold wind blew from outdoors and snow flew in through the open window. She'd been freezing and the others were all bundled up. Apparently, she hadn't merited a jacket.

She was sobbing now, unable to stop. She hadn't wanted this. The last thing she needed was to capitulate to her misery. Her fist clutched part of her grandmother's dress.

"Webby..." her grandmother said softly, gently. "You're safe here. And Steelbeak will pay for what he's done to you."

That wasn't what she wanted. She still wanted her father in her life, but she couldn't have him without his manipulating her. If her father was free, then he'd be able to hurt her again. If he wasn't, then he'd be spending all of his time working to free himself only to run FOWL again. Her lower beak quivered and she pressed her face into her grandmother's chest.

She only stopped when she ran out of tears and had increased her headache tenfold. Even so, dry sobs wracked her frame and Mrs. Beakley continued to hold her.

"Are you feeling any better, dear?"

Webby had latched onto her sometime in the last few minutes and hadn't noticed. She didn't know how to respond. Instead, she looked up at her grandmother.

"I love you," her grandmother said. More words she'd never heard at FOWL HQ. "I will always love you. I will always want you."

Webby hiccupped and blinked. Her grandmother thumbed away any remaining tears.

"Now, what do you want for breakfast?" her grandmother asked.

She pulled away and Webby hugged her tighter. She was shaking, she found, and it was disorienting and alarming.

"There are other dreams," she blurted. "Dreams about Black Heron. And about Steelbeak. And about you...but you're not you. You're just a faceless person rejecting me. Or the boys...or Lena..."

"No one here is going to reject you. As for Lena, I really can't say," she said and frowned. "But I know that Mr. McDuck and the boys, as well as I, would never abandon you.

"Would you like to remain here a few minutes more?"

Webby nodded and relaxed only when Mrs. Beakley wrapped an arm about her again. She rested with her head on her chest. It hadn't occurred to her how affection starved she was until affection was freely offered. Everyone here was so open and caring. Webby's throat tightened.

"You're okay...you're all right..." her grandmother soothed.

"Granny?" she said and realized belatedly that it was the first time she'd said it without stumbling over 'Agent 22' first.

"Yes?" Mrs. Beakley said and she could feel her smiling at her.

"Could I have my knives back?"

The smile vanished and Mrs. Beakley sighed. "I'm afraid not."

"Oh."

"But we can have blueberry pancakes. They're your favorite."

Webby nodded. After another few minutes, she released her grandmother and Mrs. Beakley, in turn, let go of her. Her grandmother smiled down at her and kissed her on the forehead.

"Why don't you get yourself washed up and come on down?" her grandmother suggested. "I'm sure the boys are already there and hungry."

Webby offered her a small smile. She was sure she was right. As her grandmother took her leave, Webby wanted to chastise herself for letting herself be vulnerable and reveal so much. However, she found she couldn't. The comfort she'd received far outweighed the unease of spilling those secrets. She felt loved and wanted. She hugged herself and for the first time, realized she might not have to self-soothe anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is rated T. (I'm not upping the rating for the whole series just because a few chapters aren't G). 
> 
> I've been trying to write this ALL DAY. This is the third attempt I've made. I kid you not. It's the first time I don't hate what's come out. 
> 
> This is an AU. Lena remains a shadow, but Magica's goals for her don't involve the dime. I felt like that was overplayed.

_"Family is supposed to help you! Not hold you hostage!"_

The whip rose and fell, rose and fell. Lena gritted her teeth against the pain it induced and swayed on her feet. Magica's spell kept her from moving, much less fighting back. Lena reached for her magic, nonetheless, wishing she could blast her aunt into oblivion. Anger festered, brimming beneath the surface, and Magica tightened her hold on her niece. Tears streaked Lena's cheeks, but she was too enraged to feel embarrassed about it.

Finally, Magica stopped and Lena swayed again, barely catching herself before she fell. Magica inspected her work, snorted, and patted Lena on the back. The pain Lena had been holding at bay rushed in and Lena blacked out.

* * *

 

When she awoke, she was in the basement again. Blood soaked her shirt and sweater, causing both to cling to her. The basement was unfinished, dingy, cold, and dreary in the summer or winter. Aside from the toilet, small shower, chains, and a handful of books, the basement was empty. Lena sighed, tugging on her chains. The strain it put on her back caused her to white out for a second before returning to herself.

Still, it hadn't been agony, which made her wonder if Poe had slipped her painkillers. Poe, Magica's brother, was stuck as a raven, but still managed to make his presence known. He cared for Lena in his way, but he couldn't outright rebel. Magica's spells held him in thrall. Lena knew the feeling.

That would also explain the pleasant buzz she had right now. Lena sighed, resting her head against the cement wall. The chains extended to the shower and toilet, but didn't permit her to reach the stairs. They were titanium and enchanted besides. If Lena could figure out how to break the enchantment, she might be able to free herself. Unfortunately, she'd been working on that for years and hadn't made any headway.

Headway. Lena stared blankly ahead of her at the single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. It illuminated her prison in stark bright white. It went out at ten at night without fail and turned back on at seven a.m. If she broke it, which she'd managed to do once by throwing her plate at it, it reappeared, intact, the next day. 

Magica kept Lena around as a point of pride ("look what I made!") and as a slave. Lena was responsible for all of the chores around the house, as well as fetching Magica's precious ingredients for her spells. Lena had no agency of her own; her will was cleaved to Magica's as soon as she left the house. When Lena fought it, it induced terrific headaches. Was that the reason why she'd been whipped today? Had she been fighting it? Lena couldn't remember and let the thought pass. She'd approach it again later.

Squawking alerted her to Poe's appearance; he swooped in through the open basement door and landed near her. Poe could talk, which meant she wouldn't be completely starved for company. Webby...Webby, was that why she was in this state? She saw the girl in her mind's eye, but it was there and gone. Damn drugs. Then again, it beat the alternative, feeling the lashes Magica had given her.

"Lena?" Poe inquired. 

"Yeah, thanks," Lena said, more because it was expected of her than because she was truly grateful. "I live to suck another day."

To her consternation, Poe held a key in his beak. Lena stared, uncomprehending. 

"What are you doing with that?"

"Keys. Keys to your chains."

"Great. And what about the magical ones?" 

Poe shook his head and then, tilting his head, unlocked her chains. Lena groaned with relief, rubbing her wrists. The manacles hadn't been too tight this time, but she had scars and marks on her hands and ankles to show Magica hadn't always been so generous. Poe unlocked her ankle bindings too.

"What's this for?" Lena asked, mildly suspicious, but not as suspicious as she ought to be, were she in full possession of her faculties. 

"Escape!" Poe said.

"Nice try, bird," Lena said, conveniently overlooking or forgetting that she, too, was a bird. 

"You need to leave," Poe said seriously. 

Lena stood and fell over. "Not happening."

She groaned from her position on the floor and rolled over onto her back. That was a big mistake, as pain flared up, overriding the medication and sending agony rushing through her body. She screamed, rolling over onto her stomach again. Unfortunately, the damage was done. She could feel blood seeping into her already soaked shirt and she gasped back sobs.

"Sleep," Poe advised.

"Yeah," Lena said weakly, struggling to retain consciousness. "I can do that."

"Sleep. Get Webby."

"...wait, what? Oh, no, don't bring her into this..." Lena groaned. She had very good reasons for not wanting Webby to know about her home life, though what those objections were, she couldn't recall. She just knew they were good ones.

"Sleep," Poe commanded. "Get Webby."

"Get away, wannabe Edgar Allen."

"Sleep," Poe repeated and fumbled with something. It was more pills. Lena's hands shook as she grabbed the bottle, popped a couple, and let herself fall down into oblivion.

* * *

 

Webby was worried about Lena. She hadn't heard from her in days now. She also didn't know where she lived, which meant she couldn't check on her. She paced her room and Dewey watched her. Dewey was her best friend, also supposed to be her brother, also apparently had a crush on her according to Louie. The whole dynamic was confusing.

"We need to find her," Webby announced.

"Where would we even start looking?" Dewey pointed out. "I mean, it's not like she drew you a map or left you a note."

"Note!" a raven squawked and flew in through Webby's tower room's open window. Webby startled. The last thing she'd expected was a talking raven.

"Do you know where Lena is?" she queried it.

"Lena!" the raven agreed. "Take you to her!"

"You will?" Webby said, bursting with excitement. 

"Take you..." the raven promptly fell over, paralyzed. Webby rushed over to it; it had fallen onto her bookcase shelving. She poked it and yelped as magic or electricity rushed through her. 

Perplexed, she glanced over at Dewey.  Dewey shrugged.

"That...was weird," Webby said. 

"Is it dead?" Dewey asked, wary of poking the raven now.

"No, just stunned. I wonder what's going on," she said thoughtfully, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "But that raven knew something. We need to find out what it knew."

"Okay, but how?"

"To the library!" Webby declared.

"That sounds a lot less action-y and a lot more nerdy," Dewey complained.

Webby blew him a raspberry. Her stomach erupted into butterflies, which it'd been doing as of late, ever since Louie had told her that Dewey had a thing for her. That in turn set off more butterflies and she felt like she was going to explode.

"Let's go," she said, attempting to distract herself.

"Yeah, okay," Dewey said. "Besides, once your grandmother finds out that I broke the washing machine and dryer, I don't wanna be there."

Webby rolled her eyes. Louie had tricked Dewey into attempting to speed through the laundry, which had resulted in a mountain of suds and two broken machines. At the time, Huey declared that Louie was making Dewey do his chores and that had involved an argument. 

She didn't blame him for not wanting to linger, though. Her grandmother could be quite formidable when she was upset. She scooped up the raven and headed for the library with him tucked in her arms. Since the Duck clan was known to be eccentric anyway, she didn't think she'd get any strange looks. And anyway, Launchpad would probably drive them to the library, so she didn't have to wander around town with a paralyzed bird.

She just wished she knew what she was supposed to be looking for. Magical curses? Magical talismans? Familiars? 

And how to help Lena, because clearly, Lena needed help.

They headed out the door without any problem; after her grandmother’s overprotective tendencies when she was younger, having the boys there had caused her to relax them. Webby was considered safe so long as she was with an adult or one of the triplets. Sometimes she went without supervision and didn’t tell her grandmother, because what her grandmother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, right? 

Launchpad took them to the library with no questions asked...about that, anyway. Dewey opted to stay with LP and go on errands, which left Webby with a stunned raven and the library to explore by herself. Well, almost by herself. To her delight, Violet Sabrewing was there too. 

“What is that?” Violet queried as they settled themselves deep within the magical artifacts area and away from Mrs. Quackfaster, who was bound to complain if they were too loud. 

Webby explained what had happened prior to entering the library. Violet looked thoughtful.

“It sounds as if he is trapped in that form. Either that or he is a familiar.”

“I can’t get him to wake,” Webby said and placed him down upon the table for the girls to have a closer examination. “He said he could take me to Lena and then...bam.”

“Clearly, whoever’s familiar this is does not want you to meet them,” Violet surmised. “And does not want you to make contact with Lena.”

Webby frowned. “I barely know her, though. I just know she’s in trouble and that I need to help her.”

“Be that as it may, someone has marked you as a threat,” Violet said and prodded the raven with her pencil. Sparks jumped from him to her and she startled. “Interesting.”

“One of Uncle Scrooge’s enemies, perhaps?” Webby said.

“Perhaps,” Violet concurred. “We might as well start with magical familiars and work our way through to curses and compulsions. We may find something.”

Or they could find nothing. The library was huge and such a search could take a long time. Nothing about magic could be verified easily online; it was mostly contained within old, dusty tomes. This might take forever.

Oh, well. Webby had plenty of time to kill. She just hoped Lena was okay…


	13. Good Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for today's episode. Also, I hardcore identify with Lena, especially after being raised by a narcissist. 
> 
> Sorry this is a little short. I'm not on full mojo today. And I didn't want to end the one-shot on a bad note, because I was tempted to throw Magica in there at the end and show her basically clawing her way back toward Lena.

_"You're good enough."_  
  
Lena mulled over the words as they ate breakfast. She was tremendously relieved not to have to deal with those nightmares again, especially once she'd learned it was because of Magica pulling the strings. She also wished she could banish the inner demons Magica had left her with, but maybe Webby, Violet, and the boys could help with that. She hadn't considered the boys her friends originally, but it seemed like they cared about her.  
  
She smiled as she ate her pancake. Mrs. Beakley looked as well rested as she did, which was to say, not very much. She'd prepared breakfast and then shuffled off, brooding over her cup of coffee. It was odd--Lena couldn't seem to stop smiling. The past week of horror was over and she felt good about herself. Well, as good as it was going to get.  
  
Webby was sitting beside her and poking at her wrist. Lena turned and Webby smiled back at her. Warmth rushed through her. Webby wanted her. Webby loved her. She deserved her. She deserved all of them.  
  
"You know, I could still go for a nap. Or maybe even a dream within a dream," Louie commented and Huey snorted.  
  
"You really  _are_  part cat," Huey said, sounding disgusted.  
  
"Hey, at least my dreams don't involve freakishly long legs and arms," Dewey interjected.  
  
"And mine don't involve complete self-absorption!" Huey shot back.  
  
"Uh...this could go on for a while," Webby said in an undertone.  
  
"Perhaps we had better leave them to it," Violet added. They headed out of the kitchen and into the nearby hallway.   
  
"You don't have an insane amount of games prepared for today, do you?" Webby asked and Lena nudged her affectionately.  
  
"I learned from the master," Lena teased. "But, no. That was all to keep us from falling asleep. Namely me from falling asleep."  
  
"I wish you'd told me you were having nightmares sooner," Webby protested. "I could've helped you."  
  
Lena might've been tempted to prevaricate in the past or dismiss Webby's concern. Now, however, a lump formed in her throat. It was hard to countenance sometimes how much Webby cared about her. It was equally hard to accept sometimes that she deserved friends and love.  
  
"Thanks, pink," Lena said after a moment. "I didn't want to bother you."  
  
"You're not a bother," Webby said insistently. "We're Team Magic, remember? We're a  _team_. That means we help each other."  
  
"Even if two members of the team are hopeless at relationships," Violet muttered.  
  
"What was that?" Lena asked sharply.  
  
Violet smiled innocently. "Oh, nothing. Just an observation."  
  
Webby squeezed Lena's hands and turned her to face her. "You beautiful angel. I care about you. We all do. No more secrets. That means no more hiding, either."  
  
Lena smiled and Webby brushed one of her hands across her cheek.  
  
"I meant what I said in your dream," Webby said. "You're good enough. You're not Magica. You'll never be Magica. You deserve happiness."  
  
Lena's chest was tight and she nodded, unable to speak.  
  
"Now, c'mon, let's see if the boys have stopped arguing," Webby said. "Unless you need a minute?"  
  
Lena shook her head and let Webby lead her by the hand away and back toward the kitchen where the boys, in fact, were still arguing. Somehow, that brought a smile to Lena's beak. This was what ordinary life was like. She thought maybe she could get used to it.


	14. Timephoon: the aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louie has a few things he needs to get off his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Timephoon! 
> 
> I feel like they've been tiptoeing over Della abandoning them for the entire season and I was glad that Louie said something, even if it was shouted in anger.

Louie glowered at their room. He couldn’t believe their mom had sent him to his room and grounded him. Who did she think she was?  _Uncle Donald_? What right did she have to do anything when she’d ditched them for ten years and then showed up out of nowhere? She hadn’t even explained  _why_ she’d left them. This was total crap. Why should he listen to her? Yes, okay, everything that had happened had been his fault, but the others had been willing to forgive and forget. Where did she get off saying otherwise?

Louie fumed, stretched out on the lowermost bunk. He had no outlet for his rage and resentment. Yeah, okay, Della was their mom biologically, but she hadn’t earned that right or that respect. Again, she’d blown here out of nowhere and she expected them to act like everything was normal. Forget that. Nothing was normal.

The others were outside doing whatever and he seethed. They got to move about, free and unencumbered. Right now, he hated their guts. The only person he hated more than his siblings right now was their mom. He turned over on the bed and folded his arms across his chest. 

No one had come in here to check in on him, either. They didn’t care. Yes, okay, he’d blasted them all out of existence for a while. And yeah, it was because he’d been running a con. Maybe the “get rich quick” schemes were a bit long in the tooth. But so what? 

His thoughts swirled, returning to Della and Uncle Donald again and again. Uncle Donald had been there for them. He’d always been there for him. He was more their parent than their mom was. Why was he still gone? Surely the cruise wouldn’t last this long. Where  _was_ Donald?

He huddled in on himself and felt the old abandonment issues wrestle with his resentment against his mother. That was right. She’d left them there to rot. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Donald, who knew what would’ve happened to them? Would they have grown up in an orphanage? Probably. And no thanks to the so-called “best mom”, Della Duck.

Trust for him was hard-won. Everyone around here had earned his trust, save his mother. And he genuinely felt bad about what he’d done. He wasn’t a monster. His mom had had no right to blow up like that. 

Gyro had taken back the time tub, because of course he had. Louie wanted more than anything to escape the confines of his room. Everything and everyone grated on his nerves. The manor was too restricting. 

He could run away, but then where would he get food and basic necessities? Besides, there was still that hurricane outside. No one ran away in a hurricane unless they wanted instant death. Louie wasn’t that brave or foolhardy.

The door crept open and he growled, back to it. 

“Whoever it is, go away,” he snapped.

“Louie?” Della called.

“Where did you think I’d be?” Louie said from between gritted teeth. “You sent me here, remember?”

He bit back a nasty remark. Part of him wanted to curse her out and lash out at her because not only was she a good target, she was the reason their Uncle Donald had struggled for so long and so hard to raise them. She was the reason they hadn’t grown up here, in the lap of luxury, because she’d had to run off to take the Spear. In fact, everything in their lives up until Uncle Scrooge had taken them in seemed to be  _her_ fault.

“I wanted to talk,” she said. She sat beside him on the bed and he automatically moved over so they weren’t touching. His rage and disgust were thick.

“Didn’t you do enough of that?” he asked, his tone barbed. “I don’t want to hear it. You have no right to lecture me on anything. You bailed on us. You’re the reason Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald didn’t talk for ten years. We could’ve grown up here. We could’ve been happy. But, no. You ditch us the first chance you get and then you’re conveniently not here for ten years. 

“And then you show up and you expect everyone to flock to you? Dewey’s a soft touch. He’s always been easy to trick. Huey--you appeal to his stupid Junior Woodchuck stuff and he’s all over you. But me? I’m not buying it.”

Louie straightened up and glowered at her. “Do you know what we did the first year we were here? After Uncle Donald and Scrooge made up? We spent a year trying to figure out what happened to you because no one would talk about you. Uncle Donald barely ever said your  _name_.”

Della faltered. She hadn’t expected the vitriol, which was too bad, because he wasn’t finished. She’d just have to wait.

“I think you’re full of it. You pretend you’re a good mom and you expect everyone to buy the act. That’s all it is, an act.”

“I know it is,” Della said softly, surprising him. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I didn’t know about Uncle Scrooge and Donald not talking for ten years. I assumed when you were growing up, that you were  _here_.”

“You were wrong,” Louie told her coldly. “You were wrong about everything. You were wrong that I’d want you back or choose you over Uncle Donald. And you’re wrong if you think you can be my mom.”

“What...what happened while I was gone?” 

“It all fell apart. Uncle Donald had to take odd jobs to keep us alive on his houseboat and we traveled all over so he could find work. We didn’t even know about Uncle Scrooge and him being our uncle until a year ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Louie looked her right in the eye and glared hatefully. “What makes you think you can waltz into our lives in the middle of everything and just pick up the pieces?”

His mother looked taken aback. “I...I didn’t. I don’t. Louie, I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t have played around with the time stream. You could’ve gotten someone killed.”

“And Uncle Donald should be the one reprimanding me, not you. Uncle Donald’s our dad.”

Della frowned. “I know. I’ll talk to him as soon as he gets home. But...don’t you want to trust me? Even a little? I know I missed a lot of stuff and I messed up, but I do love you and your brothers. I care about you, all of you. I thought we were getting along pretty well.”

Louie scoffed. “That’s because I’m good at grifting. Don’t take it seriously.”

“I see,” Della said, rising. A mask fell over her features and she straightened up from the bottom bunk. He didn’t miss her wincing, though she did her utmost to hide it.

“I’ll leave you alone,” she said.

“Good,” he snapped and then, after she’d gone and closed the door, whispered it again. “Good.”

He thought he’d feel better after spitting all that out at her. If anything, he felt worse. Yes, he had abandonment issues and yes, he resented what she’d done. He’d wanted to hurt her like she’d hurt them. But...he didn’t want to lose her, either. It was all so complicated. That was part of why he was so upset with her. She’d left them once--what was to stop her from doing it again? And what if, this time when she did, it was his fault?

Louie swallowed hard and tears sprang to his eyes. He lay there for a while, in the darkness. No one disturbed him. The wind outside howled and he didn’t think about anything for a long time. The ache in his chest wouldn’t go away and the tears still slipped down his cheeks. He didn’t want the comfort anyone could provide.

When he stopped crying, he stared out at the boarded up window. They’d managed to board it up before Launchpad had broken it instead. He could’ve gotten him killed. The last time that he’d almost gotten Launchpad killed, it’d been because he’d been concealing something too. Louie sighed.

_“I wonder where I learned_ _**that** _ _from.”_

Maybe he  _was_ the evil triplet. He sure felt like it. It was too late to call the words back and he didn’t want to. He just wanted to be left alone. 

* * *

 

Della Duck felt like she’d been sucker-punched in the gut. Why had no one told her how badly things had gone awry when she’d been gone? She’d assumed that the boys had been raised by both their uncles while she was gone. She didn’t think Louie was lying about what had happened while she was away. That made it all the more painful.

Like her youngest son, she wanted to be left alone. Since Mrs. Beakley had said she wasn’t cleaning up the mess Louie had created, Della did it, using it as something to take her mind off Louie’s venom. Unfortunately, even while her hands were busy, her mind drifted.

Being a mother was so much harder than she’d thought it’d be. Being a mother to pre-teen boys was even worse. She sighed. She wanted to talk to Donald so badly that it competed with the ache Louie had caused and threatened to beat it out. She missed her twin something awful.

She’d thought he’d be here when she came back. How wrong she’d been. Della kept her head down. Despite what Mrs. Beakley had told her about reprimanding Louie to make sure he was a better kid in the future, Della didn’t think it’d work. After all, she’d already proven she was a terrible mother.

Della sighed, tears pricking her eyes. She swiped at them. She was strong. And these Ducks didn’t back down. 

Why had Donald gone on a cruise without technology, anyway? Della knew that Huey’s postcards hadn’t reached him, which left her perplexed and a little worried. The boys had written it off, but she hadn’t. She also had that vague sense in the back of her mind like something was wrong with Donald, but since she’d had it for so long on the moon, she’d learned to ignore it. Perhaps she shouldn’t.

She knew one thing for certain. She was going to leave Louie alone for a while. She had no desire to be verbally flayed again. Once was quite enough, thank you.

“Am I really that bad a mother?” Della asked aloud.

“No, dear, just inexperienced,” Mrs. Beakley answered, coming in to help her despite claiming that she wouldn’t.

“Louie just basically told me off. Again.”

“He’s upset,” Mrs. Beakley said and frowned. “You did leave him for ten years, Della.”

“I know I did,” Della groaned. “Why does everyone need to keep reminding me? I came back, didn’t I?”

“But some wounds are slow to heal,” Mrs. Beakley warned. “And sometimes, trust is hard to get back once it’s lost. Give him time. Louie’s more sensitive than he lets on.”

“That’s another thing,” Della said. “You know my kids better than I do.”

“Of course I do,” Mrs. Beakley said primly. “I’ve been around them longer. Like I said, it takes time. You need to have patience. It can’t all fall together at once. You’ve been trying to be their friend. You can’t always be their friend and you certainly can’t be friendly with them and discipline them at the same time.”

Della nodded halfheartedly. She still felt like she’d screwed up tonight. Maybe there was no winning this situation.

“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Beakley said and squeezed Della’s shoulder. “He’ll come around.”

“Maybe,” Della said, but she was doubtful. Mrs. Beakley hadn’t heard Louie earlier. Maybe she did know her kids better than Della did, but...Della was willing to bet that Louie wasn’t going to take that grounding and dissolution of Louie, Inc. sitting still.

* * *

 

No, he definitely wasn’t going to let this rest. He’d come up with something, a plan of attack. His mom might’ve won this round, but…

Louie sighed. What was the point? He huddled in his covers. They’d spent all that time trying to figure out what had happened to their mom and now that their mom was back, it was almost easier without her. It certainly was more familiar without her.

Heads he lost, tails he lost. No winning this situation.


	15. Timephoon: The Aftermath (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids try to cheer Louie up. Serves as a sort of in between Timephoon and GlomTales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this is quite as good as the previous chapter. I wanted to write a little more, but eh.

Louie heard movement approaching the door and growled, anticipating his mother again. It wasn’t. When he turned his head, he saw a smaller silhouette, one he recognized instantly. The tension eased out of him a little, though he remained sullen. With his arms folded across his chest, he glared at the doorway.

“Come to lecture me too? I know you took Mom’s side. Is there something else in the JWG about how wrong I am?” Louie snapped.

“Of course not,” Huey snapped back and sat beside his youngest brother on the bed. “I came in to check on you.”

“Oh.” 

Louie sat up and the lower half of his beak quivered. He swiped at his face again and Huey put an arm about his shoulders. For a minute, they sat in companionable silence.

“And this is our room too,” Huey said, turning his head to someone waiting in the hallway. He expected it to be Dewey, but when Huey beckoned, the figure didn’t move. Louie frowned. 

“Webby?” Louie called. The older girl eased her way into the room and joined them on the bed. It was getting crowded, but he thought he could cope. She looked cute in the flower child get-up. 

“We were both worried about you,” Huey said.

“And Dewey isn’t?” Louie asked. “Lemme guess--he sided with Mom. Because he’s a mama’s boy.”

“He’s trying to talk to her,” Huey said. “But not because he’s defending her. He’s defending  _you_  to her.”

“Yeah, right,” Louie muttered.

“He is,” Huey insisted. 

Webby didn’t speak; she just put a hand on Louie’s. He turned to look at her and he wanted to smile, he did, but only the corners of his beak turned up and that might’ve had more to do with his crying spell than actual cheer. Still, he was glad they were here. He didn’t feel quite so alone.

“I’m sorry, you guys,” Louie said. “I didn’t mean to make you blink out of existence. I thought, if I could only steal lost artifacts, it wouldn’t affect the time stream. I was  _trying_ to be careful and it all spiralled out of control.”

He frowned. “Just like all my Louie, Inc. stuff blew up in my face. And now I don’t even have that because Mom took it away.”

“You’ll figure something out,” Huey said.

It was hard to think of that when he felt so betrayed. He glanced over at his eldest brother.

“You will,” Huey said gently.

“Why did Mom have to ground me? You saw Mrs. B and Uncle Scrooge. They were willing to forgive and forget,” Louie complained.

“But Granny and Uncle Scrooge aren’t your parents,” Webby pointed out. “And Della’s been trying so hard to be your friend.”

Louie snorted. “Some friend she is, grounding me.”

“But she’s not a friend. She’s not supposed to be,” Huey said. 

Louie scoffed, uncertain what to say to that beyond what he had. He folded his arms across his chest again, taking his hand out of Webby’s reach, and curled up into a ball again with his hoodie pulled low over his face. Huey sighed.

“We should leave him alone,” Huey decided. “But we’ll be back.”

“Of course you will,” Louie muttered, but it was without rancor. “You live here.”

Webby squeezed his arm and he watched her go. When the two left, they closed the door behind him and left him in the darkness. He wasn’t sure he bought Huey’s story about Dewey trying to talk to their mom, but then again, Huey was an awful liar. He just didn’t see why Dewey should expend the effort, especially with how often Louie tricked him.

He sighed. It would be a long time until he could reasonably expect to fall asleep and the night threatened to loom, never quite ripening. He sprawled out on the bed with his hand dangling off the mattress. He didn’t have the energy to turn on the light, anyway. Or maybe he did and he didn’t want to use it. It might’ve been a little bit of both.

Sighing, Louie let his thoughts flow away from him. The time tub had been a good idea, but, like typical Louie stuff, it’d blown up in his face. And now he was being punished for it twice, as if seeing his family blink out of existence wasn’t bad enough. He’d lost his mom twice and the second time would’ve been his fault. And then he’d pushed her away, but that, she’d deserved. Hadn’t she?

He didn’t know. He wanted to shut off his brain for a while and he rolled over, staring up at Dewey’s bunk. He kicked it and scoffed. There was no way Dewey was defending Louie. He was probably fawning over their mother again. Typical Dewey.

* * *

 

“You could always suspend the grounding until after the expedition,” Dewey suggested and Della shook her head. She’d been rather quiet since returning from Louie’s room and judging by Huey’s and Webby’s glum expressions, Louie had not been in the greatest of moods with them either. 

“I can’t,” she said. “That would be going back on my word. He needs to learn that his actions have consequences, serious ones that could hurt his family.”

“But he knows that,” Dewey protested. “He does.”

“Until he’s proven it to me, I’m not un-grounding him. I’m sorry, Dewey. That’s my final word.”

Dewey sighed, nodding as he continued cleaning up. They were all chipping in, despite the fact it’d been Louie’s mess. He shook his head at his siblings as he rejoined them.

“Yeah, we didn’t have much luck either,” Huey said.

“And now we have to keep this whole treasure hunting trip a secret from him,” Webby said.

“Maybe he won’t notice?” Dewey said.

“In what world would he not notice?” Huey objected.

“Uh, this one. This world right here,” Dewey said and Huey shook his head.

“No, he’ll notice,” Huey said. “I’ll leave him my tablet. Maybe he’ll at least be able to watch TV while we’re gone. It’s the best I can do.”

“Maybe,” Webby said uncertainly. 

“And he needs to learn that his actions have consequences,” Huey said, unconsciously mirroring their mother.

Webby cast a forlorn look up at the boys’ room. “I guess, but I feel kinda rotten about it.”

“It’ll only for a little while,” Huey said. “Louie’s a quick study. Maybe too quick.”

Webby’s gaze drifted to Della and they all remembered what Louie had spat at their mother. It’d have to work itself out somehow. They couldn’t fight Louie’s battles for him, whether they wanted to or not.

* * *

 

Della waited until they were all asleep before poking her head into the boys’ room. Even in his sleep, Louie looked grumpy and upset. Guilt pricked at her. Maybe she’d deserved the tongue lashing, but he’d deserved to be grounded and she was standing by that.

He didn’t deserve to accompany them on their trip, either. Maybe that would help hammer the lesson home. It was necessary and it had to be done--didn’t mean she liked it. But parenting wasn’t all fun and games. (And again, she needed to have a long talk with Donald when he came home).

She settled into the living room and set up her favorite video game. Maybe it would help her take her mind off things, at least for now. Tomorrow would sort itself out. She didn’t think Louie would take forever to come around.

Unless he did. But, no, she was being ridiculous. She curled up on the couch. She was so glad to be home, even if home had produced its own new headaches. She couldn’t believe that her brother and Uncle Scrooge hadn’t been talking for ten years. Why hadn’t Uncle Scrooge or one of the kids mentioned it before now? 

It explained their odd reaction to her appearing on their doorstep and why Louie had hidden behind Webby.

Man, she was going to have a laundry list of things to talk to Donald about when he got home. She wished he was home already.


	16. Moonvasion AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shot--sorry, it’s a little short. Wondering where this might go. I thought that the Moon invasion had such potential...and then it just got really stupid. Really fast. *sigh* Hence, this AU.

In retrospect, it hadn’t been that difficult to capture her and her children. They’d been sitting ducks, literally, moored on the desert island, when Lunaris’s loyal subjects had brought them to his attention. While Lunaris’s true objective remained Scrooge, capturing Della Duck, Donald Duck, the triplets, and the wildcard child marked a good second. At present, they were languishly in a prison on the moon, because he had no intention of letting them communicate with Scrooge or plan an escape.

As for the traitor, Penumbra? She was awaiting trial for treason. At present, she was in a cell further down from the Duck family, but she was bound and gagged. Lunaris didn’t want her spilling the beans about anything or possibly helping the Duck family escape. Besides...he hated traitors. Her betrayal had left a sour taste in his mouth and he wanted it gone, along with her.

Lunaris wanted Scrooge to come to him, wanted to watch him beg for his family’s lives. Of course, Lunaris wouldn’t spare them--what would be the point?--but it’d be entertaining to see the great Scrooge McDuck plead for mercy. That was part of why he hated him so much. Scrooge was so well known and so damn arrogant. Blocking Della’s transmissions and keeping her from rescue was one thing that he knew would hurt both of them---Scrooge wouldn’t know if his niece was alive or dead. But it wasn’t enough, on its own. Lunaris had a bloodthirst that couldn’t be quenched. 

He would check on the prisoners later. He had business that couldn’t be delayed.

* * *

 

“We’re okay,” Della informed them. “We’re gonna be just fine, kids.”

Della was holding it together by a thread and that thread grew ever thinner. She glanced at her twin brother; she couldn’t even be grateful he was here, because her anxiety levels had skyrocketed. Poor choice of words. She worked on controlling her breathing, because if she freaked out, the kids would freak out. And although the kids seemed pretty calm right now, that could change in an instant.

“I swear, we’ll be just fine,” Della continued, though she was more trying to reassure herself than them at this point.

“Um, Mom? You’ve been saying that for the last fifteen minutes,” Huey said. Della’s eyelid twitched. “Are you sure  _you’re_ all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. Everything’s fine. Fine, fine, fine,” she said, her eyelid twitching harder. 

“Della?” Donald asked and put an arm about her shoulders. “Della, breathe.”

“Everything’s gonna be--”

“If you say ‘fine’ again, I’m gonna scream,” Louie announced. He was pacing the cell and glancing around, no doubt trying to ascertain where the exits might be. They appeared to have been placed in a cell with a large hole in the wall, Della didn’t have time to worry about that, though. She was in panic mode and her brain seemed to have screeched to a halt.

“Breathe,” Donald exhorted his twin. “Sit down and take several deep breaths. It’s gonna be okay.”

It was odd to be calmed down by Donald, of all people, but she felt safer around him than she did trying to comfort four children. And to be perfectly honest, she wasn’t doing much of the latter, anyway. Webby had gone to inspect a corner of the cell along with Huey and Louie and all three looked contemplative, which Della hoped was a good thing and not a sign that they were going as crazy as she was.

“That’s interesting,” Huey said. “It looks like the wall is weak over here.”

“So maybe a well-placed kick…?” Webby said, backing up and preparing to do just that. 

A shot of electricity ran through the cell and Dewey tackled Webby before she got hit. Puzzled, Webby looked up at the middle triplet and then over to the threat looming beyond the bars. Lunaris had returned to keep an eye on them. He swept a cool, calculating gaze over the cell and his sneer seemed especially marked for Webby.

“I don’t need all four of the children,” Lunaris announced in a cold voice. “Take the girl away. She’s not a Duck child.”

Two guards approached the cell and Webby snarled, assuming an offensive position. Della, Donald, and the triplets rushed in front of her to protect her. Della’s heart pounded.

“You’re not getting your hands on any of the kids,” Della snapped. Her blood was up and she glared at Lunaris. 

“I don’t know why you care what befalls her,” Lunaris remarked in an unaffected tone. Della snarled and she and Donald glowered at the moon leader. “She’s not related to you.”

He snapped his fingers and said, louder, “Take the girl away.”

“You’ll have to open the cell to do that,” Della warned. Lunaris snapped his fingers again and more guards appeared. There were at least six in the holding area and more were coming. Della knew that Mrs. Beakley had trained Webby, which meant the moonlanders stood two chances--slim and none. But that didn’t mean that she wanted to see Webby hurt.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Lunaris crooned. Soon, there were twelve guards in the holding area. “Take her.”

The cell opened and the twins surged into action, jumping the guards and avoiding laser blasts. Webby ducked and weaved, moving so rapidly that she was almost a blur. Della couldn’t keep track of her and fight her own battles, so she hoped that Webby did well and paid more attention to kicking away the guards.

Lunaris waded into the battle too and Della snarled, trying to reach him. Someone grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back. She heard Penumbra screaming beyond her gag, but there was nothing Penumbra could do. 

Lunaris snagged Webby by the hair and she kicked him in the face. Six guards trained their guns on Webby and drew a bead. It felt like everything slowed down and there was no time and all the time in the world.

The laser blasts came and in a blaze of fire, Webby spun away. The triplets knocked away a couple of guards, but not enough. One blast caught Webby in the leg and the guard grabbed her. Webby hissed in pain.

“She’s useless,” Lunaris announced. “Get rid of her.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shot set before A Modern Myth. Brief reminder that Wren is Webby's mother and is deep undercover at FOWL HQ, keeping an eye on her daughter and sending back intel to SHUSH. Webby is Steelbeak's daughter and as such, being groomed to be his heir.

 

Wren rocked back and forth and swiped at the tears streaking her cheeks. She was a big girl. She was a SHUSH operative. Or, at least, a former SHUSH operative. She was so deep undercover that she didn't think she could dig herself out. The worst part was that she'd done it to herself.

 

She'd seen the way they handled her daughter, but if she spoke out against it publicly, she'd blow her cover. And then Webby would be in dire straits. No, she had to hold her tongue and act subtly, which presented its own problems. She'd dearly love to confront Steelbeak and ask him what the hell he was thinking, letting a child be battered by adults simply to acquire his attention. It was absurd.

 

Gradually, she regained control over herself and her breathing. The tears ebbed and then stopped and she rose to her feet. In her servant's uniform, she blended in with her surroundings. No one ever paid attention to the servants. 

 

She made her way back to Webby's room. For whatever reason, Steelbeak had declined to give the poor girl a proper door. Instead, love beads covered her doorway and Webby had little to no privacy. At present, her ten year old daughter was making herself small. Wren wanted to poke her head in and see what was going on, but didn't want to risk jostling the beads and announcing her presence.

 

She waited until Webby turned around and bit down so hard on her tongue that she thought she was going to sheer it in half. Webby's back was bleeding profusely, bearing the marks of repeated whippings. She was so angry she couldn't think straight and her body quivered in outrage. She knew those lacerations. Black Heron had been at her again.

 

Wren needed to beat a quick retreat before someone discovered her presence or before she outed herself. It took what felt like hours for her head to clear enough to notice where she was. She'd walked over to Steelbeak's office and she righted her course. For this deception to work, she couldn't confront Steelbeak in any manner. He couldn't know she was here.

 

But that didn't extend to Black Heron. Black Heron didn't know who Wren was and Wren's name here was Starling, not Wren. Of course, Black Heron didn't condescend to know Wren's name, false or otherwise. 

 

She found Black Heron in her office and wiping Webby's blood off her whip. Wren breathed deeply through her beak to keep from jumping the woman and slamming her head into a wall. Unfortunately, violence was one of the few things that Heron understood in any capacity. When Black Heron finally dropped the whip, Wren moved like the wind, snatching it from thin air and then bringing it down hard on Heron's back.

 

Heron snarled, spinning about and aiming her cannon at her. Wren countered with a kick to the stomach that knocked the older woman off balance and then grabbed Black Heron by the collar.

 

"Don't you ever use that on Webbigail again," Wren said, low and dangerous.

 

"And who are you to stop me?" Black Heron sneered. "The help?"

 

"If Steelbeak discovers what you've been doing and the mess you've made of her back, he won't be pleased," Wren warned. She was still shaking, she discovered. She'd also almost bitten her tongue again.

 

Black Heron paused. 

 

"Leave. Her. Alone," Wren spat. 

 

"What is the child to you?" Black Heron said nonchalantly as if confrontations of this nature occurred all the time. 

 

"Never you mind," Wren snapped. "Leave. Webby. Alone. That's my final warning."

 

Black Heron sneered and Wren punched her in the face. Heron countered by throwing Wren back and then attempting to dive on her. Wren swept aside, allowing her to crash into the wall. Black Heron was getting slower in her old age. Wren sneered.

 

"Have a good night, Black Heron," Wren snorted. "I'll be seeing you."

 

And, leaving Black Heron stunned, she walked out of the room. Adrenaline rushed through her body and she turned that slow walk into an outright run. She didn't stop until she'd reached her small quarters and then she closed and locked her door. She'd gotten her vengeance, provided that Black Heron didn't want to pursue her. Then again, Wren had perfected looking nondescript. And there were always ways to alter her facial features. 

 

Wren wasn't overly concerned. What did concern her, however, was Webby's condition. Wren would need to sneak her bandages and creams while the girl slept. If she could sleep, in that state. Damn it, she wished she could kill Black Heron. Maybe she'd be lucky and someone would do that for her eventually.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, for some unknown reason, Black Heron gave her a wide berth. Webby had discovered creams, bandages, and other wound treatment in her room overnight. Admittedly, she'd slept very poorly, so she wasn't sure when they'd arrived. She'd cried herself to sleep again and dreamed someone had been rocking her back and forth and kissing her forehead. She missed that dream. That person had been so gentle.

 

But there was no gentleness to be had in FOWL. Webby had better shape up or ship out and the latter was not an option.

 

Applying the cream to her back was difficult, but she didn't dare ask for assistance and reveal her weakness. Still, she didn't know who else knew about her back besides Black Heron, who had inflicted the wounds. That meant someone was paying particularly close attention to her and that left her incredibly uneasy. She didn't like scrutiny--it meant someone was waiting for her to trip up.

 

She'd have to be on her guard today...even though moving hurt like crazy and it brought tears to her eyes. She could manage it. She'd been through worse.

 

It reminded her of her fascination with reincarnation. For the first time in a while, she wished she could reincarnated into someone else, anywhere else. She knew she'd have to die first, but honestly? That dying didn't sound so bad right now.

 

She was bitterly lonely, in agony, and she knew someone was keeping too close an eye on her. It wasn't exactly the ideal situation by any means.

 

She passed a servant she thought she recognized and inclined her head towards her. The woman inclined hers back but paid no more attention to her than she might've an inanimate object. Maybe Webby was imagining things. It must've been a servant to sneak into her room, but why? Why should a servant to go to all that trouble?

 

Or maybe Steelbeak had demanded they do that after finding out about his daughter's latest injury. That was possible. Steelbeak didn't like seeing Webby weak either. Yes, that was it, she'd decided. It had nothing to do with anything else.

 

_ "Someone holds me safe and warm...horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully, across my memory..." _


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after This is War (so slight-ish spoilers). 
> 
> FLUFF. SUPER FLUFF.

Webby was having a nightmare. They were all too common, although they'd decreased in quantity since she'd grown more accustomed to living at McDuck Manor. Wren was on duty tonight and possessed a key to Webby's room, which was important in case Webby had decided to lock the door again. She had agreed, temporarily, to allow them access, but she was uneasy about it. Old habits die hard and she was afraid someone might take advantage of her weakness.

Wren unlocked the door and slipped into Webby's room. Her daughter was crying, curled into a ball with tears streaking her cheeks. She was rocking back and forth, desperate to self-soothe but failing at it. Wren sat on the bed and pulled Webby into her lap.

"Sssh, it's okay," she murmured. "I'm here. No one's going to take you away. No one's going to hurt the boys or Lena. Or me or your grandmother, for that matter. Everyone's safe and secure. Sssh, Webby."

Webby was crying silently, which broke Wren's heart. It bothered her more than she could say that Webby had trained herself to do so because to cry aloud would be to alert someone to her condition. Wren smoothed back her daughter's hair. She wished she could have done as much back in FOWL HQ. She still held herself responsible for the shoddy treatment Webby had endured.

"Sssh. Sssh, my love."

She became aware of eyes upon her and then a soft hand on her cheek. Wren looked down and Webby stared back up at her.

"I'm sorry. I could hear you tossing and turning," Wren explained. She didn't mention that she'd been stationed outside of Webby's door for that eventuality or that Mrs. Beakley had secreted a baby monitor into Webby's room so that they could help her. That would definitely feel like an invasion of privacy and Webby wouldn't understand the necessity for it yet.

Webby raised her eyebrows.

"You were also whimpering in your sleep," Wren added and Webby sighed.

"I thought I locked the door?"

"You did. You promised us you wouldn't."

"I know..."

There didn't seem to be anything to say for a minute. Webby shuddered, still crying, and Wren thumbed away her tears.

"What were you dreaming about?"

"Steelbeak," Webby said and, for a moment, Wren feared she wouldn't elaborate. True, Steelbeak featured prominently in Webby's nightmares as it was and he alone could conjure up ill omens, but she knew that wasn't the whole story. Webby shuddered and Wren cuddled her close.

"I dreamt he got into the manor and attacked everyone..." Webby whispered. "Including Uncle Scrooge."

Wren smiled. "I don't think Scrooge would take that lying down."

Webby shifted so her head was on her mother's chest. "Maybe not...he's not going to throw me out of the house, right?"

Either that last nightmare had truly terrified her or she was willing to trust Wren a little more than usual. Wren was thinking the former.

"No, he's not," she reassured her. "I promise you. Besides, Mother would have his head. You know she's the one who really runs things around here."

Webby nodded, though Wren could tell she was far from convinced.

"Are you worried about Scrooge throwing you out or about Steelbeak attacking everyone?"

"Um..." she hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. "Both."

"Nothing bad is going to happen," Wren promised. "Again. And even when it did, we faced it as a family, remember? It'll be okay. Sssh. Calm down."

"I'm gonna just get a drink of water..."

"And check to make sure Lena and the boys are all right?" Wren said with a small smile.

"Yeah," Webby admitted, sheepish.

"I'm sure they're fine, but if it makes you feel better, go right ahead."

Webby nodded and then hugged her before leaving. Yes, Webby was definitely opening up to them. There might be a few bumps along the way, but they could handle it. She was proud of the progress they'd made.

* * *

 

Lena was having a nightmare of her own. Ever since being detached from Magica, she'd had nightmares every night regarding the foul sorceress. She'd left her door unlocked, unlike Webby, although that was more due to her having crashed on the bed than any forethought on her part. Webby could tell all that at a glance and she snuck into Lena's room.

She touched the older girl on the shoulder and then, seeing as that had no effect, shook her.

"Hey," she said and Lena jumped, magic glowing before she realized who it was. Her amulet stopped glowing in her chest and she panted.

"Jeez, pink, knock first," Lena said. Her eyes were wide and there were bags beneath them. Webby hugged her and Lena hugged her back; a single sob escaped Lena's beak against her will.

"You too?" Webby whispered.

"Always," Lena admitted.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Lena was silent for a moment and Webby wondered if she was going to refuse. Then, slowly, the older girl nodded.

"I'm gonna check on the boys, but I'll be right back," she promised. Lena rolled her eyes.

"They're fine," Lena said and then, in a lower voice, added, "Check on them for me too, okay?"

Webby smiled and crept down the hall. As she did so, she noticed that their door was wide open and she rolled her eyes. Degrees of trust? Or just degrees of fatigue? The boys were all in their beds and dead to the world. Well, not *dead* to the world, because that would be horrifying, but fast asleep.

She returned to Lena's room and cuddled up against her. Lena hugged her to her. She wasn't going to say she trusted Lena more, even after everything than her mother and Agent 22, but she did.

"G'night, Webby," Lena whispered.

"G'night, Lena," Webby whispered back.

"I'd wish you sweet dreams, but neither of us is going to have them," Lena said.

"Maybe no dreams would be better," Webby agreed, shutting her eyes and hugging Lena tightly.

"No dreams, then," Lena said and rested her chin on Webby's head.

"No dreams," Webby agreed. And even though in the past she wouldn't have trusted anyone to be in the same room with her, much less this close to her, when she attempted to sleep, she found herself drifting off in Lena's arms. She felt safe here. Lena had more than proven herself to Webby.

She fell asleep with a faint smile on her beak.

* * *

 

Wren found the girls asleep together in Lena's room. They didn't look like they'd had any nightmares or crying episodes, which was a relief. Mrs. Beakley stood behind her daughter as they looked in on Lena and Webby.

"It was a good idea to keep her in the manor," Wren said in an undertone to Mrs. B.

"I never thought I'd say this, but Lena may be what Webby needs," Mrs. Beakley said and then sighed, shaking her head. "Those poor children."

Wren smiled. "At least they have each other, right?"

"And us," Mrs. Beakley added and hugged her daughter tightly. "Never forget--we're here too. And the boys. She has a whole support system in place."

Her eyes darkened for a minute. "And if Steelbeak ever comes near either you or her again, I will rip his beak off his face and feed it to him."

The sad thing was that Wren believed her. The savagery was unexpected, but not completely. Wren smiled, not able to bear the idea of waking the girls up just yet. Let them sleep a while longer. Heaven knew they could use the rest.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after This is War. I'm mostly just screwing around with ideas now. I don't know where I'm going after This is War finishes, but I like that universe a lot.

Wren had fallen asleep listening to the baby monitor and checking that Webby hadn't had nightmares. When she awoke, it was because a light touch had stirred her. Bewildered, she cast her gaze about and discovered Webby before her. Wren had passed out in the hallway, which she admitted wasn't the best place to be. She wasn't exactly inconspicuous here. Her mother would've reprimanded her for that.

"How long have you been out here?" Webby asked. She scooped the baby monitor up off the floor. "Have you done this every night?"

"Since you came back and I wasn't too tired, yeah," Wren said, feeling sheepish. "I thought I could make it through the fatigue. Apparently not."

"You've been listening to me sleep?" Webby asked. She sat beside her mother. "Why?"

"You have nightmares. I wanted to be there for you like I wasn't before," Wren replied softly. "I failed you as a mother."

"You kept Black Heron from killing me for five years. I'd call that a success."

Wren scowled. "I let you kill Black Heron and suffer because of it. I should've killed her when I had the chance. There's no exculpating my guilt here."

"What do you dream about?" 

Wren wasn't certain whether she was genuinely curious or just trying to change the subject. Wren sighed, deciding to take the question at face value.

"I dream about losing you...about Mother repudiating me...about FOWL uncovering my true identity..." Wren frowned. "My dreams are hardly worth discussing."

She stared at the carpeting. "I wish I could've done more for you, kept you closer."

"You did what you could. I'm not angry with you."

"I'm angry with me for you," Wren said, a wry twist to her beak. 

"Don't you ever get tired of sitting out here and listening to me sleep?" 

Was she trying to catch her off guard? If so, it was working. Then again, it probably didn't take much to outwit a befuddled adult and Webby had always been a clever child. She hugged her daughter. Regardless of how she came about, Wren still adored her.

"I used to do that in FOWL too. I brought you medicine when you were sick. Or when you were recovering from Black Heron's latest bout. I couldn't risk lingering, but I was there as much as I could be."

Wren sighed. "But it wasn't enough. Not by far."

"I used to hate Granny," Webby said, not looking at her, but staring ahead of her. "I kept thinking of her as Agent 22 and that was all. She was the enemy, especially in Black Heron's eyes. She didn't care about anyone but SHUSH and she would obliterate anyone who stood in her way. Steelbeak used to tell me bedtime stories about her to 'keep me on my guard'. I had nightmares for weeks when I was six that she was coming to get me."

"Oh, Webby..." Wren said. "Your grandmother would never--"

"I know that now. Steelbeak, on the other hand, told me nothing about you. That's why I was wandering the archives that night. Come to think of it, I still don't know why FOWL captured the boys."

"Scrooge's old accountants used to head up FOWL and McDuck Enterprises," Wren said. "They'd kidnapped the boys to ransom them, although they knew Scrooge never paid a ransom. They intended to kill them."

Webby shuddered, hugging herself. Wren hugged her tighter.

"I know how you feel about them," Wren said quietly. 

"They saved me," she whispered. "If it hadn't been for them, I'd have lost it entirely."

Lost what? Her sanity?

"My secret heart," Webby clarified. "I was trying so hard to hold onto my compassion and my empathy. That's why Steelbeak was going to try to beat it out of me, so I could be his true heir."

Aside from the obviously unnerving proposition of Webby's compassion being beaten out of her, it didn't shock her as much as Webby might've imagined. 

"You've heard it before, haven't you?"

"From your father, yes," Wren admitted, grimacing. "Your father, the mastermind of handling and traumatizing children."

"So, if the buzzards didn't get away with the boys, then what happened to them?" Webby asked.

"I don't know..." Wren admitted. "We, I mean, they, don't hear much from high command usually."

Webby smiled humorlessly. "It's hard to break the habit, isn't it?"

"I know what you mean," Wren grimaced, shaking her head. "Once a FOWL operative, always a FOWL operative. No matter that I was a SHUSH agent undercover."

"If they're still out there, then the boys are still in danger," Webby said. "We have to warn them."

She bolted upright.

"Not in the middle of the night," Wren said. "We're perfectly safe within McDuck Manor, Webby."

Webby swallowed hard. Wren could tell by looking that her daughter would have no sleep unless she'd at least consulted with the triplets, Dewey in particular. Wren would never have guessed that she'd grow so close to them in such little time.

"We'll tell them in the morning," Wren promised. "For now, why don't you try to get some sleep?"

"I'll try," Webby replied in a tone that indicated she would attempt it, but it would be of no avail. Sadly, Wren knew exactly how she felt.

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” Wren promised.

“You need sleep too,” Webby pointed out. 

“I’ll be fine.”

Webby raised her eyebrows. “The same kind of ‘fine’ that Lena is after Magica’s appeared in her nightmares?”

Wren winced. “Something like that, yes.”

Webby rolled her eyes, not buying it, but then again, Wren wasn’t trying too hard to convince her, either. There was only so much effort she could expend and this wasn’t worth it. She stifled a yawn. 

“Sleep well, sweet dreams, Webby.”

“Night.” 

She wondered why Webby hadn’t added a command to stop spying on her, but perhaps she’d decided that was too harsh. Wren rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep on watch. It was disgraceful. 

Still, her mind drifted to the boys and the buzzards. They might still be in danger, Webby was right. They needed to do something. Wren groaned, burying her face in her hands. They had to do something and she was at a complete loss to figure out what. If FOWL HQ had gotten their hands on the triplets so easily, then what they were supposed to do? Walk around with an armed entourage?

She didn’t know. She cursed quietly. She really didn’t know. 


End file.
